Shasta Trinity
by Ragtime Mouse
Summary: Events aboard the Rayya were only the beginning. Adventure. Gunfights. Explosions. Slash. Kal'Reegar/Veetor'Nara. Complete!
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes:** Back on the fanfic train, WOO WOO. Okay, sorry, that was pretty lame. Anyway. Decided to try my hand at writing a Mass Effect fanfic. So. Here it is. Yep. These author notes sure are scintillating. Banana. Were you paying attention?

I said "banana."

But yes, uh, so, this is a slash fic, obviously, so if you don't like slash you should not read it. I have no idea how long this will be, though I do have most of the plot worked out in my head. I've already written one fanfic for this pairing, and this is a sort of... un-condensed version. The rating is subject to change depending on how violent it gets, but for now I think I'm safe with a T. Anyway, hope you enjoy it! On with the story.

**/Prologue**

Kal'Reegar stared at the impassive, mirrored curve of the helmet belonging to the quarian seated in front of him, and desperately tried to remember the man's name. He couldn't.

The progress of the shuttle he was in was a little rocky, and it caused him to sway lightly in his seat from time to time. They had just left the _Rayya_-"they" being the small crew of quarians operating the shuttle, Kal'Reegar, a talkative quarian who had come to the _Rayya_ on her own personal business, and the two figures sitting directly opposite the quarian marine.

He knew the female. Elan'Shiya was her name, and she was a doctor. The quarian next to her was her patient, in fact. Kal'Reegar continued to stare, too caught up in his own thoughts to wonder if it was rude, silently wracking his brain for the man's name.

He an this unnamed individual had gone to the _Rayya_ for more or less the same thing, or, rather, the same person. A remarkable young lady by the name of Tali'Zorah vas Normandy had needed their help, and they'd been there to offer it. It turned out she had brought her own night in shining armor along, and Kal suspected that even if neither he nor Veetor had shown up, that human companion would have carried the day alone.

Wait. Veetor. That's right. That was his name. "Your name's Veetor'Nara, right?"

The quarian had been silently staring at the floor until spoken to, and now slowly, carefully brought his helmet up to regard the marine. His doctor also looked to Kal, though she moved quickly and attentively, alerted to anything involving to her patient. "Yes," the male finally replied, "and you're Kal'Reegar. You're Tali's friend."

"And Commander Shepard's, yes." Kal nodded.

Veetor repeated the gesture. "Me, too."

Kal'Reegar didn't know exactly what to say after that. He was quiet for a moment, and he could feel the penetrating stare of Elan'Shiya burning through his helmet as if it were made of nothing. He almost chuckled, but stopped himself. The doctor took her role seriously. This fragile man was in good hands.

He paused. Fragile? Maybe not. Veetor, after all, had been first to speak up at the trial. "I noticed you stood up for Tali before anyone else did."

"We both did," Veetor replied quietly.

"Yeah, but you went first. Thanks," Kal'Reegar nodded politely to him. "Means a lot t'me to know that she's appreciated."

Veetor stared back. Kal'Reegar could just make out the faint impression of the other quarian's eyes beneath his helmet-pale and slanted like his own-and then he nodded faintly and went back to staring at the floor. He was about to turn to the window when a faint movement caught his eye. Elan nodded to him, briefly, approvingly.

He was unaware of the significance of that short conversation.

/

The small shuttle was known simply as _Kildeira_. It had been built for speed, state-of-the-art in its time, a tiny streamlined curve of steel built by salarians so long ago that no-one was alive who remembered acquiring it. Kal'Reegar had ridden in it many times throughout his years of service to the quarian military.

It was currently on its way to rendezvous with a small cluster of quarian ships, an exploratory force that resided outside the Flotilla. Splinter groups of quarians were not unheard-of. Not too long ago, the _Idenna _had left the fleet on an isolated deep-space voyage.

This cluster of ships was currently moving through an area that Kal'Reegar had been ordered to investigate, so he had hopped a ride on this shuttle. The talkative quarian had made her business very plain; she was going back with her family, having visited the _Rayya _to drop off unneeded possessions and acquire as many spare parts as she could bring back to her family. Virtually all of the small crew of the Kildeira knew that these were part of a project her (in her own words) genius young son was working on.

Kal'Reegar had expected her to annoy him, and to be sure, he couldn't handle her ceaseless chatter _all _the time, but he had to admit her obvious love and pride for her offspring were a little touching.

Veetor and Elan'Shiya were relocating to the isolated group for Veetor's health, as far as the marine could tell. Kal made it his business to know as much as he could about everything that was going on around him, but Veetor was something of a mystery, beyond the common knowledge that he was the sole survivor of a Collector attack. He was also obviously mentally imbalanced.

Apparently the isolation would be good for him, and he had his trusty doctor along, to further speed his recovery.

Kal'Reegar let his thoughts drift back to his own mission. The splinter group of scientists had uncovered another phenomenon like the one he'd come across on Haestrom. He wasn't urgently needed there yet, as they already had a basic military presence established, but certain factions of the Admiralty still believed that this dark matter phenomenon had something to do with the geth, and apparently expected them to show up any minute to crash the party.

Kal'Reegar was no scientist, but he did have his doubts as to the veracity of that theory. Still, he could be useful down there. Even if there were no geth to worry about, he could protect this splinter group from other very real threats, such as pirates or mercenary bands making a move on the sector. The Terminus systems were dangerous with or without the geth.

Aside from the fact that the scientists could have discovered something important, he felt a draw to this small group of his own people. If he were the psychoanalytical type, he might have wondered if this were a personal tendency of his, or just a manifestation of the deep sense of community that had been woven intricately into his mental upbringing. Quarians usually looked out for other quarians. It was natural to them.

He wasn't the psychoanalytical type, though, and as such, the subtle motivations that governed his behavior were lost on him. He was just there to shoot things.

The shuttle rocked.

Kal'Reegar was immediately alert, looking to the man standing at the end of their narrow seating area. This quarian performed the duty of attendant, guard, emergency medic, and messenger (the _Kildeira_ had lost internal comm systems a month or so ago, and had yet to repair them). He ducked to the front of the ship and vanished.

Kal'Reegar looked after him tensely.

"What was that?" Veetor asked immediately.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Veetor," Elan said soothingly, placing her hand on his arm. "It's okay. This is, after all, an older ship."

"Are we being attacked? Why was the ship shaking?" he persisted.

The talkative quarian turned to him. "I'm sure it's fine. These old vessels all have their hiccups, you know. Nothing to worry about. For all we know it could have just been a glitch in the gravity generator. Wouldn't that be funny? All of us floating here until we arrived home?"

Kal'Reegar couldn't tell if her relentless cheer had calmed Veetor or just puzzled him into silence, but the other quarian said nothing. The woman went on, "That would be something to tell dear Shati when I got home. 'Guess what your mother did through three star systems? Floated upside-down!'"

The messenger returned and immediately caught Kal'Reegar's gaze. He nodded once to the front.

"'Scuse me," the marine said gruffly, standing and walking down the aisle into the short hallway separating the main control room from where they were sitting.

The attendant made sure they were out of earshot before he said, "Our engines just froze up for a second. We weren't sure if it was just this vessel malfunctioning, or what, but we're keeping an eye out for other vessels in the sector. We are altering course to orbit a small moon in an attempt to keep out of anything… harmful's way. The passengers will ask. Will you please do your best to keep them calm and explain that this is just a malfunction?"

With the captain busy at the command station, and most of the rest of the tiny crew working on ship repair, it seemed natural to ask the person with the most charisma to keep the rest of the passengers in line. Kal'Reegar nodded. "Will do. Call me if you need anything else."

He returned to find the talkative woman still nattering on, apparently to Elan, who was at least looking politely in her direction. Veetor couldn't seem to keep his eyes in any one place.

After a few moments the moon loomed into view. It was more like a planet than any moon, orbiting a massive blue gas giant. Its atmosphere was thin, but breathable. Kal'Reegar didn't know much about it, but luckily (or perhaps unluckily) for everyone in the shuttle, the talkative quarian did.

"Humans named this moon. They call it 'Shasta Trinity', apparently after a place that used to exist on Earth. Probably the climate was similar or something." The moon was predominantly brown from orbit, with swathes of incongruously dark green criss-crossing the surface. The talkative quarian half-turned in her seat and tapped at the window controls. A small magnification panel appeared over the lower portion of the screen, showing them a more intimate view of the landscape. "See?"

There wasn't much to see. Rocky terrain marched across the screen, the higher peaks dusted with snow, the lower gouges filled with the icy slashes of glacial lakes, all of it interspersed with stands alien conifer trees. Brown, white, green, and blue, all melding together over the moon's lonely, desolate surface.

"But why," the talkative quarian finally had the presence of mind to ask, "are we here?"

Kal'Reegar stared at the landscape slowly drifting by for a moment before he said, "Well-"

He was rather rudely cut off by the ship bucking wildly. Elan'Shiya and Veetor were thrown from their seats, and the talkative quarian was banged against the window. Only Kal'Reegar had reacted quickly enough to keep himself from being knocked to the floor. He stood as soon as he was able.

"Everyone!" The attendant had returned, his voice shrill with panic. "Get to the lifeboats. We're under fire-" he was interrupted by another mighty surge. Kal'Reegar stubbornly maintained his footing.

Elan'Shiya was trying to get Veetor to stand, to move, but the quarian had seized up and was babbling frantically, not making any sense in his raw panic. The talkative quarian dithered, confused and still in shock from the sudden turn of events.

Which left it all up to Kal'Reegar, of course.

_"Now!" _he bellowed. All eyes turned to him. "Come on." He knelt and pulled Veetor to his feet by the other quarian's elbow, nodding to Elan. "Lifeboats are in the rear. Can't fit more'n one per person. Move!"

She nodded and led him off. Veetor numbly allowed himself to be pulled, his babbling silenced for the moment.

Kal'Reegar told Shati's mother where to go, and she nodded, scurrying off. The attendant looked to him. "We've got more than enough lifeboats for the crew, but we're going to try and land. I think… I think they're slavers, Reegar." He shook his head. "We'll need this ship's longer-range distress signal to get any kind of help."

The ship shuddered again. Kal stumbled and caught the doorframe to keep from being knocked off his feet. "I'll try and keep the crew together. Our best bet down there is to try and elude 'em, but failing that…" He tapped the compressed assault rifle attached to his hip. "We hole up an' hold 'em off." He had faced tougher foes than simple slavers.

The attendant nodded. "We'll do our best to rendezvous. Keep everyone together, if you can!"

Kal'Reegar nodded and turned, running to the back of the ship. The shuttle had been designed with simple, cold salarian logic. On the aft end of the ship there was one group of lifeboats, and another at the fore, the idea being that any pursuers would have difficulty pursing both groups of boats. This gave a section of the crew a better chance to survive without hopelessly scattering them.

_ Still, _Kal'Reegar thought as he slammed his fist into the panel that opened up his own distressingly coffin-shaped lifeboat, _it's going to be hell getting us all back in one squad._

With practiced ease, he slid inside, flipped the controls, and with a sharp hiss, a bulkhead sealed him in. There was a jolt of sensation, and then Kal'Reegar was launched away from the ship, hurtling towards the moon's surface.

He descended rapidly, his lifeboat tearing a screaming trail through the atmosphere, the quarian inside it buffeted mercilessly in the rattling dark of its interior. There was nothing quite like riding a personal lifeboat. It was terrifying, too horrible for the mind to comprehend, moving at such a speed and yet being unable to move, feeling the weight and pressure of the cosmos so close to one's body.

The mind sort of shut off in those moments, did whatever it could to ignore the terrifying reality that it had been plunged into.

Kal'Reegar was trained to handle this, but even he felt his resolve stretched to its breaking point as his lifeboat raged through the atmosphere.

And then there was a deafening, shattering thud, and he was tumbling end over end. Instead of landing in soft dirt, he had doubtless hit some unyielding cliff side. Well, that was just perfect. The lifeboat spun and bounced, the quarian warrior helpless to halt the fury of its descent, until with a bone-rattling jolt, it finally stilled.

Kal'Reegar's body was already shaking as the adrenaline drained from his limbs. Part of him-a very, very small part-wanted to stop a moment and rest, but he knew better. He had a job to do.

He flipped the release. A few agonizing moments later, with a great symphony of hisses and squeals, the lid of the lifeboat opened to a gray overcast sky. Kal'Reegar swung himself out of his lifeboat and stood up straight on the loose, rocky soil where his lifeboat had come to rest.

He had a job to do.


	2. Lost and Found

**Author's Note: **I decided to make my previous entry a straight-up prologue, since this turned out to be so long, and has been summarily altered. Durp. I apologize in advance for the lame chapter title and all lame chapter titles to come. In case you hadn't guessed, I can't name things unless I give them lame names. So. Here you go.

I would like to try and keep some kind of sense of cohesion between chapters, but I sense that they are probably going to be of wildly varying lengths. DEAL WITH IT.

I mean, uh, sorry. Geez Louise, how rude.

So. …well, yeah, okay, story time! Thanks for the interest, folks!

**/Chapter 1 - Lost and Found**

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear-not absence of fear. Except a creature be part coward, it is not a compliment to say it is brave." -Mark Twain

After removing the emergency rations of food, purified water, and medi-gel from the lifeboat, Kal'Reegar unclipped his assault rifle and got to work. He was at the base of a relatively small (relative to the mountainous terrain, of course) rocky hill. His boots slid uncertainly over the scree that had accumulated at the bottom. He could see where his escape pod had initially crashed farther up the hill, and struck out for the top, which was clear of trees. It was time to begin searching for signs of the nearest escape pod.

His first priority was to gather the survivors, and then to look for some sort of natural shelter. He wasn't sure to what lengths their attackers would go to see that they were taken care of. If they were indeed looking for slaves, they might come down to the moon, and the survivors would need protection. If they were simply shooting down the shuttle for getting to close to something sensitive (an illegal mining operation? A turf war? Who knew?), then the survivors would still need something to protect them from the elements and any hostile native wildlife.

Kal'Reegar wasn't sure how big the fauna got down here, so he kept an eye out for signs of obviously large disturbances in the brush.

He paused, having finally reached the crest of the hill. To his right a clump of tall, thin conifers had been battered aside in lunatic angles, and a thin plume of dwindling smoke rose from between them. That would be the first escape pod. He descended and headed towards it at a steady clip. It had been a long time since he'd been hiking in such rugged wilderness, so he had to consciously remind himself to set a sustainable pace.

The lifeboat was nearby, and not at all hard to reach. There was a quarian sitting on a fallen tree-trunk near it, shivering lightly, his head lowered almost between his knees. Kal'Reegar recognized Veetor immediately.

"Hey," he called, "Veetor'Nara. You okay?"

The quarian didn't say anything. He didn't even look up or otherwise acknowledge Reegar's presence.

Kal'Reegar stopped just short of him and reached for his shoulder. "Nara. It's Reegar."

Slowly, the seated quarian looked up. He nodded jerkily.

Kal'Reegar was puzzled and uncomfortable. He wasn't used to dealing with people with… special needs. Veetor obviously required careful handling, so to speak. The marine wasn't sure his company would do anything more than make the poor thing even more unbalanced. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No."

Kal'Reegar stared at him for a few moments before he nodded. "Well, get up, then. We've got to find the rest of the crew and regroup." He stepped past Veetor and began to unpack the lifeboat's emergency supplies. "Figure our best bet is to find a place to hole up and send out a distress signal. We're weren't too far from the rendezvous point when we got shot down, and when we don't show up on time-"

"Who attacked us?"

Reegar didn't think of himself as an easily-startled man, but Veetor's quiet voice _had _startled him, spoken so closely behind him. He turned, and saw that the other quarian had walked up to him without a sound. The marine quickly recovered. "Not sure. Could be slavers. Maybe just some passing mercenaries looking to have some fun. Either way, the plan's the same; we stick together."

Kal'Reegar didn't notice the slight tensing of the other quarian's shoulders at his curt and honest answer. The thought of being pursued by slavers dug sharply into the dark, buried places of Veetor's mind. It wasn't Reegar's fault. He didn't know how to handle Veetor's delicate state of mental balance. All the same, the twitchy quarian felt his breathing quicken…

"Here." Veetor jerked out of his trance. Reegar was holding a bag of emergency medi-gel right in front of his visor. Numbly, he took it. The marine had his back to Veetor, and had been handing over the packet without looking to him, his attention focused on rummaging through the lifeboat before him.

After a few more moments, he had pulled out a canvas pack and loaded it up, which he offered to Veetor. "I'd carry it, but I need to be able to shoot." He hefted his rifle as Veetor slung the bag over his shoulder. "You sure you're not hurt?"

"No," Veetor shook his head. "I-I'm fine."

Reegar began to turn away again, but paused when he noticed the tremor in Veetor's voice. He looked back at the other quarian and finally noticed the other's state of burgeoning panic. "Hey, it's going to be okay." He reached out and clapped Veetor on the shoulder. Veetor jerked, stiff-shouldered and nervous. "Uh, sorry."

"For what?" Veetor asked, his voice higher-pitched than normal.

Kal'Reegar blinked behind his helmet. "Never mind. The point is, we're going to be fine. I won't let anything happen to this crew. That includes you, Nara."

Veetor nodded silently. Satisfied, Kal'Reegar turned and began his march in search of the next escape pod, Veetor'Nara trailing behind.

Luck was not with them. They investigated several more ridges, and only found one crash site, but the pod was empty and still-sealed, indicating a dummy. The captain had probably released all lifeboats in hopes of distracting their attackers with decoys. Once again, like the separating of the fore and aft lifeboat groups, it was a sound strategy. Once again, it made Kal'Reegar's job harder.

The sight of the empty pod apparently disturbed Veetor, so Kal'Reegar made quick work of its stock and moved on.

As they light grey of the sky darkened into whatever passed for night here, Kal'Reegar began to look for a place to settle down. He had been expecting to rough it when he left the fleet, but not to _this _degree. As darkness fell, Veetor became increasingly jumpy, following closer to Reegar and starting at every slight noise.

"It's okay," he said for what felt like the millionth time, "I haven't seen anything to suggest that the wildlife here gets any taller'n half a volus." He looked over his shoulder to see if the joke was well-received. Veetor just stared impassively back. Hmm. He would have to try harder to put his comrade at ease. Veetor'Nara's jumpiness was a tactical weakness. It was hard to distinguish which sounds came from his nervous jumping and which came from the darkness beyond.

Reegar continued in silence for a while before inspiration struck. "You know I took down a geth Colossus once?"

Veetor cocked his head. "Really?"

"Well, not alone. And I didn't really do a whole lot besides get it angry. It was back on Haestrom, during my last mission."

"Where you got sick."

"Yeah," Reegar gave an annoyed snort. He'd been laid up in bed for longer than he'd been out on Haestrom fighting. "I was alone by the time I got to it, trying to get to Tali'Zorah, and the only thing I had to do was take down a few dozen geth and a self-repairing Colossus." He paused.

Veetor took the bait. "What did you do?"

"Well, after I got shot, I was getting ready to give it one more go with my last launcher, and Shepard showed up. She took it from there. Never seen anything like it." He had been attempting to distract Veetor, and hopefully instill a little confidence in the other quarian, but he only realized how pathetic his story sounded after he'd told it. Damn.

They continued on in silence. Then Veetor broke in, "Shepard saved me, too."

Reegar looked back to him again. "How's that?"

"When-at Freedom's Progress, after the… the attack." He swallowed heavily. "Cerberus came looking for me. And some quarians. Tali was there, too. Cerberus was going to take me away, but Shepard made them let me go with her."

Reegar nodded with a low, rough chuckle. "Sounds like her all right." It wasn't hard to picture that steely-eyed woman bending a galaxy-spanning organization to her will.

"She's…" Veetor paused, searching for the right word to describe their mutual human friend. "…good," he concluded.

Kal'Reegar nodded, "Tali's in good hands."

They fell silent again, but it was a slightly less tense silence. They found an overhang to camp for the night, and did so, stopping to rest and sample their rations. It was brisk, but not unbearably cold, and their environmental suits were more than sufficient to keep them comfortable.

Kal'Reegar wanted to sleep, but he didn't know if Veetor would be capable of keeping watch, so he decided he would have to rest when they found a larger group. It wouldn't be the first time he'd simply powered through fatigue. He might be able to catch a few hours' worth of sleep by morning. He still didn't have reason to believe there were any large predators out here, but he didn't want to take any chances.

Reegar stood after about an hour to make a few quick rounds, and was startled when Veetor jerked and looked to him. He'd thought the other quarian was asleep. "Sorry. Didn't know you were still up." Veetor'Nara didn't say anything, so the marine continued, "You should try and get some rest. We've got a long day tomorrow."

"I tried. I mean, I'm still trying. It's just…" He shook his head. "It's… I'm trying."

Reegar turned to face him fully. Clearly all of this was too much for his comrade to take. He gazed out at the forest, which was dark-on-black, composed entirely of indistinct menacing shapes looming away as far as the eye could see. It was easy to imagine why someone with a nervous condition might be scared of that. He'd taken Veetor's silence for slumber. How long had the other quarian sat there, choked with terror?

"I'll be keeping watch, so you've got nothing to worry about," he said after a moment, "And all's quiet out there."

"It's very quiet," Veetor agreed.

Reegar nodded. "That's a good thing. Out here in the middle of nowhere, we'd hear anyone coming miles away." He decided to leave Veetor with that note of confidence. "Now, stay here. Shout if you need me." He turned and went to make his rounds. When he returned, the other quarian was still there, limbs drawn tightly against himself.

He supposed there was nothing more he could do. He felt responsible for Veetor, as responsible for any member of the ship's lost crew. He sat back down, resting his rifle across his knees and staring silently back into the darkness.

After a few tense moments, Veetor blurted, "I'm sorry. I'm really kind of a coward." The comment struck Kal'Reegar out of the blue, and he glanced to the other quarian. Veetor went on, "I mean, even before-before I lost my mind, I…"

There was something heartbreaking about listening to him speak of his own loss of sanity in such matter-of-fact terms. Reegar shook his head. "No, you're wrong," he informed his charge rather bluntly. Veetor looked up and blinked, the movement just visible behind the dim glow of his helmet. "We talked about this on _Kildeira_. Back on the _Rayya, _when you spoke up for Tali? You charged right into the middle of that crowd."

Veetor lowered his helmet, looking to the ground. "But…"

"Somethin' we learn pretty early on is that you can't stop from getting scared. Just happens. What you do when you're scared is what matters. And you." Kal'Reegar shrugged. "Helped Tali."

Veetor was looking at him again.

"So that has to count for something, I guess." Reegar said. He went back to keeping watch.

Veetor was quiet for a very long time, before he softly said, "Thank you." He shifted and lay down on his side. And after an hour his breathing finally slowed.

Kal'Reegar sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. He was a little proud of himself for having been able to quell his nervous companion's insecurities for the moment. Elan'Shiya might very well be proud of him, too. Still, it wasn't as if he'd made it up off the top of his head. Veetor _had _shown some guts that day. He had it in him. He just had to be able to find it when he needed it.

/

Kal'Reegar snatched a few hours of sleep that morning, and woke before Veetor. He made a quick patrol, woke his comrade, and after a short breakfast, they set off. The morning was largely uneventful until they spotted the signs of wreckage in the distance. When they arrived at the lifeboat, it was opened, and there was obvious evidence that its passenger had left it in the disturbed dirt and brush around.

"Shoulda stayed put," Reegar said gruffly as he hefted his assault rifle, "But his trail shouldn't be hard to follow. Let's go." He set off, following the series of minor destructions that the survivor had carved through the forest. He kicked a tree cone idly out of his path, sending fluffy white seeds scattering lazily in its wake. He was about to clear the area of another one when he froze, noticing that his second tree cone had blinking lights running down the side of it.

It was a spent thermal clip.

Instantly he became alert, his fingers tightening on his rifle, a slight shift rippling through his stance. This only meant trouble. "Nara." He looked over his shoulder. "The trail to the escape pod's pretty clear. You think you could follow it?"

Veetor nodded. "What's wrong?"

"Don't know yet. Go there. Take this." He unclipped his pistol and offered it to Veetor, who shied away from the weapon. "Look, I need you to hang back in case things get heavy. That lifeboat's the best cover we've got. Hold your position and I'll come back for you."

Kal'Reegar could see Veetor's breath quickening. Gingerly, the twitchy quarian took the pistol from him. "What if-what if…?"

"I'll be back. Just hold on until I do. Understand? Now." He changed his tone, barking his words with gruff authority. "Move!"

Veetor nodded, dithered a moment longer, and then moved to obey.

Kal'Reegar plunged forward, moving as swiftly and silently as he could. A spent thermal clip was suspicious, but not reason to panic. Maybe the lifeboat's occupant had panicked and fired at some of the native fauna. Unfortunately, it was also likely that the fauna that had come under fire was of the interstellar slaver variety. The clip might have even have come from an enemy weapon.

These thoughts raced through his mind. If the pirates had landed, he'd heard no signs of it. Of course, it could have happened while he was still in his pod, but they'd have to have been hot on the tail of the lifeboats. How had they got down here without his noticing? As he mentally retraced his steps for signs of foul play, every broken twig he remembered passing was lent a sinister air, and the confusion around the lifeboat suddenly seemed more like a struggle. He would have to assume such unless proven otherwise.

It wasn't long before he had his answer. The trees began to thin, along with his already sparse cover. The trade-off was that he was able to see farther ahead, and he spotted the building from quite a distance. It was a low-slung, grey structure, with an untidy halo of crates scattered about it and a guard post not too far from Reegar's position.

_Damn. Looks like we're in more trouble than I thought. _He carefully halted his advance and took a moment to run the situation through his head. It was reasonable to believe that his kinsman had been taken from the lifeboat. The building before him was not very large, but contained an unknown number of hostiles.

Some soldiers would have retreated against such odds. Kal'Reegar just started calculating the steps necessary to reduce that unknown to a definite and permanent zero.

/

The guards hadn't known what hit them. There were only two of them, both human, one of them half-asleep and the other engaged in a late breakfast. Kal'Reegar gave them the benefit of the doubt before he did anything really nasty. Neither was equipped with anything other than basic padded armor, and he was able to render them both unconscious by getting creative with the butt of his rifle.

A few moments after scanning the security screens and he angrily finished the job with his combat knife. There were only six screens, all of them displaying various views of the premises, but on one of them he saw a dark room with an unconscious quarian curled on a grey cot, being watched over and occasionally prodded at by an armed guard.

He knew he had a limited amount of time to work, but a quick scan of the perimeter, utilizing the various cameras, showed him only eight other personnel in the building. He could have missed a few, but even then that gave him a maximum of perhaps twelve or so. He'd faced steeper odds.

It wasn't as if he had a choice. There was no way he would leave the quarian to the tender mercy of these fellows. He was relieved to find in his various scans that none of the people he saw were wearing the uniforms of any of the powerful mercenary factions known to frequent this region of space. Likely these were just a small, no-name band of pirates.

That didn't make them any less deadly, but it also meant that heavy reinforcements were unlikely. Kal'Reegar didn't waste any more time. It would be better if he could create some kind of distraction, but he was just one man, working alone. His mind raced as he raided the guardhouse for a few spare thermal clips-and halted when he found something he hadn't seen in years.

Three old-fashioned grenades sat, dusty and unused, their fins retracted.

_These _he could work with.

/

Kal'Reegar was not exactly a techie, but he knew how to deactivate the 10-second automatic fuse found on these old models. Now they would only detonate when triggered by the remote switch in his Omni-tool. He vacated the guard house and made a wide circle around the building's perimeter, sneaking back to plant them on the northern side of the structure. He didn't actually get close to the building, but rather slapped them on a few heavy crates nearby. The explosion was sure to be loud and messy.

He kept one grenade for himself, clipping it to his side and then retreating again, once again circumventing the establishment and closing in, this time from the south side. He was relying on the apparently lax standards of this place to keep the dead guards from being noticed just yet. These people were expecting frightened survivors stumbling across the landscape, not a highly-trained and irritated soldier.

He ducked behind a sturdy-looking crate and took a deep breath. Once he triggered the charges, all attention would rush to the area. Hopefully he would be able to infiltrate and clear out most of the base on his own. By the time his presence was known, he'd have command of the territory and, more importantly, he'd be between these pirates and his kinsman.

He was also hoping the explosion would fool his adversaries into believing that they were being attacked by more than just one enemy. It was now, of all times, that his mind snapped back to Veetor. The poor thing had been alone for over an hour now. Kal'Reegar shook his head. He hadn't had time to backtrack. He would have to hope the other would do what he said. He was surely likely not to run in_to_ the middle of a firefight.

At any rate, it was now or never. Reegar tripped the charges, listening to the satisfying boom of the cargo hold exploding. There was also the unexpected sound of a high, thin scream-human, female. Or perhaps asari? _Some_one had been standing too close to the crates. Oh, well.

He waited a few more moments before he vaulted from cover, rifle at the ready, and sprinted for the door. Luck was with him this time. As soon as he approached, a guard jogged out of the building, and Kal'Reegar gunned him down and rolled inside before the automated door shut. Two more bursts from his rifle and another guard fell. So far no-one had even been equipped with kinetic shielding. Apparently these pirates didn't believe in investing in defense.

He encountered minimal resistance on his way to the prisoner, felling one more hostile as he went. He wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved that they'd failed to react so fast. He had to bypass the door of the quarian's cell to get inside, and was greeted with the angry guard, but he struck out quickly. This time blue shielding blazed to life against the force of his rifle-butt, and one more blow connected with the batarian's chin. The following burst of fire ended his life.

The quarian had stirred during the commotion, and was staring at him. He didn't recognize her, which meant she had to be from the crew of the _Kildeira_. "You-"

"Time to move!" He pulled her to her feet. "Grab his pistol and come on!" She did as she was told, but passed up the guard's pistol in favor of the shotgun he hadn't even had a chance to draw, nodding to Reegar. He turned and began the charge for freedom.

Getting in was the easy part, it turned out. It soon became apparent what the pirates had spent their money on; security mechs were marching down the hallways, forcing Reegar and his charge to take cover. The marine was able to pick off most of them from a safe distance, and once, when they rounded a corner only to find no less than two of them advancing, his charge had put her shotgun to good use.

They didn't have time to speak, or exchange names, or anything as they ran. Finally, they burst out of the doors into the wan sunlight, legs churning, only to come to a skidding halt as the imposing white bulk of a YMIR mech ponderously turned in their direction.

The both shouted different, but equally filthy curses, and dove in opposite directions for cover. The mech opened fire, pulverizing the door behind them. They were in a bad situation. The remaining hostiles could advance through the building at any moment, and there was no way they were getting past that mech.

"We're going to have to try and get around it," he shouted to the other quarian, "I'll distract it, and you move further from the building. Then you cover me. Got it?"

"Yes!"

They began. Kal'Reegar popped up first, spraying bullets in the mech's direction, ducking back down as soon as it turned its cannons on him. He saw his charge moving swiftly between the crates, holding herself low to the ground. She then popped up and opened fire from her position. The mech turned and slowly began to march towards her while Kal'Reegar moved away from the building until he found suitable cover and began the cycle over again.

Their saving grace was that the mech wasn't terribly smart. Their back-and-forth game would work on it for a while, but it didn't work on their non-synthetic enemies. Kal'Reegar was preparing to run for the next crate when the door behind him opened, and two guards opened fire. He rolled out of the way, feeling the unfamiliar press of the grenade against his side.

The grenade! He should have thought of it earlier! He grabbed it, extended its fins, and then slung it towards the doorway. Before the hostiles could even blink, his Omni-tool flared, and the tiny device exploded, messily ending their lives.

For a moment he thought perhaps he should have used it on the mech, but they hadn't even downed its shields yet. One grenade wasn't going to work on _that _thing, sadly.

While he'd been distracted, the mech had closed on his ally, who had stopped firing and was now trying to curl herself into a tiny ball behind her cover. It had gotten too close. Kal'Reegar leaped from behind his cover and charged angrily, firing, diving behind cover at the last possible moment. He heard the squealing whirr of the abused door opening again. More hostiles.

They were surrounded-no. _He _was surrounded. He had the attention of both the YMIR and the pirates now. "Go!" He tried to shout to her over the gunfire. "Head for the trees! Back to your pod!" He didn't know if she'd heard him. The roar of the YMIR's gun was deafening, and he could already hear the report of more weapons from the doorway. He took a deeper breath and bellowed, "Go, _now!"_

This time it rang out clear as a bell, not because he was significantly louder, but because the mech's gun had stopped. Reegar blinked and hazarded a look, his rifle at the ready.

It was covered with a thin orange sheen. Realization dawned on him, and he pulled his rifle up quickly. The pirates were a little slower on the uptake, and a stray shot bounced off the machine's armor. It turned towards them, intoning its lethal intention in its deep, synthesized voice, and began firing on its former masters.

Kal'Reegar made a mad dash for his ally's position. He'd noticed that the YMIR's shields had finally come down. She must have, as well, as such a thing was necessary to hack it. Either it would take out the pirates, or it would get taken out. Either way, they needed to put some distance from this place. "Good work with the mech. Now, let's get the hell out of here."

She jerked. "Wait, me-I didn't hack it!"

Kal'Reegar stared blankly back at her. "What?" It only took him a moment to guess what had happened. "Let's go."

They headed for the trees, pausing only when they heard the distant boom of the mech self-detonating. Kal'Reegar paused, surveying the scene below, but all was still. He slowed to a steady trot as he approached the guard house. He relaxed a little, but kept his weapon out, and opened the door.

Veetor hadn't thought to lock it. He was staring at the security screens, his shoulders slightly hunched, his Omni-tool burning bright in the gloom. Kal'Reegar shook his head, but was silently impressed. "Not bad."

Veetor looked jerkily over his shoulder, and then back to the screens. The images were flicking by rapidly as he shifted camera POV, all of the pictures shuffling madly around like some sort of crazed jigsaw puzzle. Kal'Reegar stepped forward, lowered his gun, and waited until the other quarian was done.

Veetor's visor flicked subtly back and forth as he drank in the rapidly-fire data. The screens slowed, froze, and he finally sat back. "They're all gone now. The mech killed the last ones." He looked up to Kal'Reegar. "Are you both okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks to you, I guess. Pretty sure I told you to stay back at the pod."

"I was worried." Veetor stood and looked past Kal'Reegar to their rescued comrade. "Are you okay, too?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thanks for the help with the mech out there." She replied politely and calmly. Her tone of voice indicated that she knew who Veetor was, and how to speak to him.

"Good. We need to get out of here just in case there are some reinforcements on the way." The sooner they were reunited with the rest of the crew, the better. "Let's move out."

The trio did, hastily leaving the compound behind. It turned out their new teammate had a communication device that had been a part of the ship's original design. It was made to track down escape pods. It was standard-issue for the crew, but nobody had had time to disperse them among the passengers. They located the direction of the nearest signal and set out.

As they walked, a thought struck Kal'Reegar. He turned to Veetor as they walked. "You saved my life."

Veetor glanced his way. After a moment, he hesitantly nodded. "Yes. I guess so. But you probably saved mine. By taking me with you, and everything. And you tried to keep me safe. Thank you, Reegar."

"It's not like I would've left you behind," Kal'Reegar replied, "And I think saving my life puts us on a first-name basis."

Veetor cocked his head. "Okay. Okay… Kal." He looked suddenly in the direction of their new teammate, as if struck by a thought. "Um, what's your name?"

She had been silently watching him, and the comment startled her a little. "Delor'Shaal vas Kildeira," she replied, "I sort of forgot to introduce myself. Heh, sorry."

"It's all right. What happened to you? How did they get you?" Veetor asked.

She began to explain exactly what had happened. Kal'Reegar kept his attention on the landscape and the communication device, which Delor had handed him. He had more or less guessed the events leading up to her capture and rescue, and if there were any details he specifically needed to know, she would tell him. As he was walking, a thought struck him.

Just hours earlier, he had been telling Veetor'Nara that he was brave, despite what the quarian thought of himself. Kal'Reegar had not been lying. He knew there was a thread of truth to his words, but he'd spun them out of a sense of obligation more than a deep-seated conviction.

He hadn't realized until now how right he'd been.


	3. Veetor

**Author's Note:** D'aaw, thanks for the nice reviews, guys :3 y'all are tops. I'm glad y'all are happy with the pace. Of the updates, I mean. I write when I can. I can't promise the other chapters will come quickly or especially slowly. I'll just hafta play it out.

ANYWAY.

This one was a wee bit harder to write, as writing from Veetor's POV is kind of difficult. But I gave it my best shot. Hopefully it's convincing enough. Um. Not much else to say, except be prepared for Return of the Lame Chapter Titles. Dun duuun.

**/Chapter 2 - Veetor**

"I hang on the edge

of this universe

singing off-key

talking too loud

embracing myself

to cushion the fall."

-Nikki Giovanni, _Sky Diving_

The trio raced dusk to the escape pod, but dusk won, and they were forced to camp for the night. They had no real shelter this time except for a ring of trees, but the quiet had apparently convinced Kal'Reegar that large animals were not their biggest threat.

Veetor was not afraid of dark itself. He didn't mind close, dark spaces. Rather, they left him with a sense of calm, but wide open areas like this, filled with unseen noises, were highly unnerving. He stuck close to their new ally, Delor, and to Reegar as they traveled.

Wait, no, not Reegar. Kal. "Kal" sounded so much more personable than "Reegar," which Veetor thought was an intimidating name. It suited the soldier. Calling him by a less intimidating name was a small, but helpful way to alter his perception. The other man was a fearful, unpredictable enigma that startled him on a regular basis and left him fluctuating between severe unease and the beginnings of comfort, which was dizzying and not entirely pleasant. Kal was sometimes scary to be around.

He liked Delor, though. She was kind and not terribly unusual. Her normalcy was comforting, and she always used the right tone of voice. When Veetor closed his eyes and listened to her voice, he could easily shrug off the intimidating mass of the forest all around him. It helped him forget.

"So you don't remember anything they said that could give us a clue as to who the hell we're dealing with?" Reegar's gruff voice broke Veetor's concentration, and the twitchy quarian opened his eyes. They were sitting in a sort of circle, the small clearing lit only by the dim glow of the reflective surface of their helmets. Veetor glanced once, off to the side, into the snarling unknown stretching all around them, and then turned his attention to the two quarians before him.

"I'm afraid not. I wasn't actually there all that long. You two must have been hot on their heels." She chuckled. "Can't say I'm not grateful."

Kal'Reegar's visor lowered as the quarian fell into silent thought. Even sitting down, he looked dangerous. Was dangerous the right word for it? Veetor stared at him a moment, his thoughts shuffling over each other. Not dangerous. Prepared. Ready. He didn't relax. That made sense, considering where they were and what had happened… a thought sprang to the front of Veetor's mind. Kal'Reegar hadn't slept yet. Not properly.

"The fact that there were people down here makes this whole situation different." Kal'Reegar went on, attacking the question of "why" as determinedly as he would any physical foe, "The whole reason we're down here could be because we got too close to this place. Our trying to hide might be what got us into this mess," he growled, his voice low and tense with frustration.

Veetor looked up briefly to the sky. Two evenings ago, they had been up there, moving quietly and safely through space. "But they attacked us before we hid, didn't they?"

Kal'Reegar glanced his way quickly. It looked to Veetor as if he hadn't expected him to speak. "Yeah. Which also means that we could have been driven here and shot down on purpose."

Veetor felt his shoulders tighten instinctively at the suggestion. The thought that someone was after them, pursing them, might even be stalking them through the darkened forest even _now_... his lungs seemed to jerk involuntarily, forcing air shallowly in and out of them without permission from his brain, and the sound of his own quickening breath was harsh in his helmet.

"Veetor-" Delor began.

He felt a firm hand on his upper arm, just below his suit's shoulder-guard, and Reegar (Kal's) voice broke through the sounds of his own breathing. "Hey. It's okay. Calm down." He was trying hard to be reassuring, but it didn't suit his voice. Kal's fingers tightened a bit, and Veetor did his best to control his errant lungs, shakily drawing in a long breath, but the pressure from the fingers was threatening to make his rising anxiety _worse, _not better.

"We're here," Delor said soothingly. Her calm, feminine voice reminded him of Elan'Shiya, and between the almost-reassuring contact of the soldier and the familiarity of Delor's proper tone of voice, he felt himself calming. He missed Elan. He needed her. Frustration and sadness rippled through him and he hung his head, weakened in its wake.

Kal'Reegar had not moved, and was staring at him intently from behind his visor. Veetor slowly nodded. "I'm okay." Only then did the other quarian draw away. He'd tried, and for that, Veetor was grateful.

"Whatever the reason, we're enemies now, and we have to assume they'll be looking for us. So we'll keep on our guard and try to cover our tracks. We also need to find any other survivors as fast as we can. Not only will they not expect hostile forces, they won't know that they're being hunted, and could lead our enemies to more of our people. And we did a pretty good job busting _you_ out." He nodded to Delor. "But I don't want to try that again a hurry."

"Thanks again, both of you," Delor said, looking between them. "You risked a lot to save me."

It was then that it occurred to Veetor that Kal had been including him in his previous statement's "we." He'd just been complimented. It was a strange, but pleasant sensation. Delor's thanks was just as warming. "You're welcome," he said quietly.

"Couldn't leave you," Kal'Reegar insisted.

The other two quarians discussed the watch schedule. Kal'Reegar would take first watch so that Delor could get some rest, and then she would act as sentry. There was no mention of Veetor taking watch. He understood why it would be a bad idea. He had no illusions about his condition, and had resigned himself to his fate.

As they spoke, Veetor drifted away from their conversation and back to the unexpected compliment. It had been a nice surprise. Surprises were important to Veetor. He lived his life constantly braced for the impact of something terrible. Once, it had. When he found he had prepared himself for the worst, only to discover something benign, it stayed with him.

"I can't help but wonder, though," Delor said, breaking his haze, "what these people are doing here."

"If there's an easy way for us to find out, it might help us understand what's going on, but doing any investigating would be too risky right now," Kal replied, shaking his head. He looked back and forth between Delor and Veetor, and added, with a touch more confidence in his voice, "Don't forget, we don't have to wipe them out or anything. We just have to last until our reinforcements get here."

With that slightly more heartening statement, they settled in. Delor had no problem falling asleep, and it wasn't long before that demure, soothing voice that Veetor had treasured earlier was enthusiastically snoring. It wasn't loud enough to concern their soldier that it was a tactical problem, but it was just loud enough to be familiar and comforting in this strange setting.

Veetor sat, his body folded tightly, occasionally glancing out into the shadows when he heard a small noise. Once something fluttered near his helmet. It was small, probably some kind of insect, but Veetor scooted away hurriedly and felt himself start to shake.

It was frustrating, not being the master of his own body. Veetor had long since given up hope of controlling himself. Sometimes it all came together, when his focus tightened in moments of great stress, and his mind broke through the shackles that governed his jumpier instincts, but usually it was like this. He felt like a passenger in his own body, a prisoner of his fears, which were larger and more powerful than his will.

"You should get some sleep."

Veetor looked to Kal. The other quarian was staring at him, his weapon drawn and once again resting across his knees. Veetor shook his head silently, struggling to find the words to explain, but to his relief, Kal just nodded. He went back to scanning the area, and once left to make a quick patrol.

Veetor didn't move until the marine came back. He was staring at the ground, determinedly ignoring the great yawn of darkness looming around him. Kal'Reegar crossed the clearing once, and then, instead of stopping where he'd originally been sitting, came to rest beside Veetor. Veetor didn't look at him. He just kept staring at the ground, unsure why Kal had moved there. He didn't ask.

Eventually Kal apparently realized that he would have to break the ice. "How did you know I was sick?"

Veetor blinked and looked to him, utterly baffled. "What?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking about what you said earlier today. We were talking about Haestrom, about Tali, and you brought up that I'd been sick."

"Oh. I saw you at the hospital. I was there… recovering, too. From when-from Freedom's Progress," Veetor replied, "You weren't… you were not really conscious. Um. We passed by your room, and I looked in. There were a lot of machines hooked up to you, and Elan told me that you'd been shot by the geth while protecting Tali."

"Oh. Yeah, the first few days back were… uh." Kal shook his head. "Those weren't fun."

"No." Veetor remembered it clearly. Kal had looked smaller then, lying back against the snarl of wires, his breathing soft and unsteady in the quiet room. Veetor hadn't really thought much about that moment until now. He remembered he'd been sad, because the soldier had done something to protect someone who'd protected _him, _and he remembered telling Elan'Shiya that he hoped Kal'Reegar got better.

He hadn't expected to be talking about that moment with the man, all these weeks later. He looked the other quarian over, thinking to himself how different he looked now, and even though Kal was a lot scarier, Veetor was glad that he wasn't that same fever-ridden creature he remembered. "I'm glad you got better." He didn't know how to eloquently describe the difference to his new friend from the weak, grimly struggling figure on the bed to the commanding, intimidating presence that was sitting next to him. _Protecting _him. He didn't know how to describe how important that was to him.

"Hell, so'm I. How would that have sounded? Took down a geth Colossus and then died of a stomach ache a week later."

Veetor felt the muscles in his face twitch into something that was almost a smile. "I thought you said Shepard killed the geth?"

"Well. Yeah. But I softened it up for her." He could hear the smile behind Kal's words, and what had started was soon finished under Veetor's helmet. He grinned, though neither could see it. For a moment they just sat there, enjoying the rare moment of conviviality in the midst of their struggles, when Veetor's smile suddenly stretched into a yawn. Kal nudged him. "Try and get some rest, okay?"

Veetor nodded and lay on his side. Kal'Reegar didn't move, but stayed nearby, looking out at the forest and occasionally glancing surreptitiously his way. Kal'Reegar was not very good at being subtle. Veetor was secretly a little grateful for his obvious concern. He sure could be intimidating, but it was nice to have something that was a little scary and on _your_ side for once.

With those thoughts in mind, Veetor fell asleep.

/

The next morning Delor woke him, and Veetor sat up, stretching and working the aches out of his body. He really wasn't used to sleeping on the ground. He glanced over to see her gingerly shaking Kal'Reegar awake. Veetor drank in the sight of the sleeping soldier while he could to remind himself that Kal really was an ally, he was a quarian, and despite his upsetting behavior, he was a good man. It wasn't as hard as it had been the day before.

Kal banished the last vestiges of his grogginess quickly, and it wasn't long before they were on the move again. Their signal turned out to be another dud, and Veetor hung back at the edges of the clearing while Delor and Kal gathered the supplies from the empty escape pod.

He didn't know why the sight of the empty escape pod was so frightening. If he tried to analyze the fear, old images sprang into his mind, the sight of a chitinous bulk being hauled away between two equally armored carriers, colors dulled by a security screen, the air thick with buzzing, _a storm of swarms_-the air fled from Veetor's lungs and he gasped to try and draw it in again, backing away from the pod.

Neither Delor nor Kal noticed until Veetor was hunched over, and then they were both crowding him, trying to reassure him. It wasn't until they were away from the pod that he was able to regain control of himself, and he mumbled continuous, stuttering apologies.

They moved on, and sometime around midday, Delor shook her head. "This thing wasn't really designed to be used in a huge forest like this. I'd probably have a better signal if we can find some genuinely clear, high ground."

Kal thought the prospect was risky. Though it might give them a better view of the area, and a better sense of direction, it might also expose them to anyone who was looking for them. Still, it was their best chance to find any more survivors, so he led the way, advancing cautiously with his weapon drawn. Veetor traveled in the middle of the group while Delor brought up the rear with her shotgun.

The hike was difficult, but largely uneventful. Once, halfway up, there was scuffling ahead, and Kal'Reegar called a halt while Delor stepped up to his side, her weapon ready. Veetor realized that they were both moving to protect him, and he felt a sudden sense of loss. There was nothing he could do to help them now. They had stepped up, prepared to lay their lives on the line for him, and he couldn't even fire a single shot to on their behalf.

It turned out to be a group of small animals. Tiny horned ungulates, barely higher than Veetor's knee, bounded over the path before them. Their small bodies and quick movements sent icy shards of nervousness dancing up his spine, but neither Kal nor Delor immediately noticed, and he had to choke back his fear himself and scurry along to catch up with them.

Once they reached the top, Kal carefully moved about the crest, seeing what he could scout with his own two eyes. Delor knelt and removed her device, which was a modest, palm-sized disc that had affixed itself to her suit. She fussed over it for a bit, muttering to herself. Veetor watched Kal first, eventually turning his attention to her, when a sudden thought struck him.

"Here." He stepped forward and knelt by her, raising his hand. His Omni-tool glowed a comforting, gentle orange as he scanned the device. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's old," she said, "No hardware damage, but I think there might be some… er, hiccups in the programming."

Almost before she had finished speaking, Veetor felt his focus tightening, like a funnel, directing all of his attention away from his surroundings and onto his task. It was a strange but familiar sensation. It had come to him in the guard house before. It had come to him on Freedom's Progress. He found himself tightly bound in a tunnel of consciousness, his thoughts cold, directed, quick, his fingers flying over his Omni-tool.

Later, in his more relaxed moments, he wondered if this talent, this hyperactivity of his mind, was some sort of compensation for his condition. He didn't think it was a fair trade-off at all.

Veetor's agile mind made quick work of the problem. Occasionally he muttered something, words flung out of the tight rapid stream of his thought. At first they just tumbled out, flung rapidly from his helmet, but eventually he began to speak intelligibly. "I'm going to boost the signal. It should let us look even farther for the others." The tunnel relaxed, opened, and Veetor felt his mind broadening again, his surroundings rushing back to him from the veil of grey his concentration had cast over them. He looked up.

Delor and Kal were both staring at him. He handed the device silently over to the female. "Keelah," Delor muttered.

Kal shook his head slowly, incredulous. "Good work," he said, turning his attention back to the horizon.

It didn't take Delor long to find something with the modifications Veetor had made to her device. "_Big _signal," she said. She was standing on top of an outcrop of rock with the device thrust up in the air. Kal had tried to dissuade her from assuming this position, but she had said that finding the survivors quicker was a higher priority. Besides, if anyone spotted them from the base of the hill (which was really more like a small mountain), they'd have enough time to make an escape. Kal had weighed their various options and apparently concurred.

"What exactly d'you mean?" the soldier asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

"Looks like we found a cluster. That's lucky! That could mean the ship is nearby. If the pods were released after we broke atmosphere, then it's likely they would have landed near the ship." She hopped down and looked to the two males, excitement evident in her bearing. "Looks like our luck is changing!"

Veetor sighed deeply in relief. The more escape pods they found, the more likely they were to be reunited with Elan'Shiya. A heavy hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he turned and almost smacked his visor into the now-familiar shape of Kal'Reegar's.

"Uh, sorry. Didn't meant to scare you. Just wanted to tell you, good work." He released Veetor's shoulder. "We might not have found 'em without you."

Veetor nodded tensely, feeling the nervousness drain very slowly from him as Kal let go. Veetor knew that Kal wasn't trying to upset him. The soldier was a little clueless as how to handle his charge. As soon as Veetor was aware of that, something interesting happened.

He became amused.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch in his helmet and switched his visor to thermal-based imagery. He saw straight through the intimidating air the soldier's body language and voice lent him into the man himself. Socially, he was quite rough around the edges, almost like Veetor, but in a different way. Veetor was too shy of other people. Kal was too rough with them. Neither of them had ill intentions. They both wanted to do what was right. They just had trouble with the execution.

That leveled the playing field a bit. Veetor felt oddly comforted by the knowledge. In that moment, the soldier stopped being some indescribable dominating force, and became just simply Kal. He smiled to himself. Yesterday, he had thought about how he hoped referring to his comrade as "Kal" would help him become less nervous of the man, would help Veetor forcibly change his perception of the soldier. Instead, Kal had changed his perception just by being himself.

It was the second pleasant surprise that he had discovered in two days. It was just as nice as the first.

The other two quarians led the way, unaware of this small, but significant, revelation. Veetor trotted to keep up with him, his head spinning with the new thoughts that had rooted there, and was quite too busy being distracted to be afraid.

/

For a while, at least.

Much of the morning passed before they came into view of what was generating their signal. The trees in the area had been flattened, and their splintered stumps heaved up through the ground, giving the clearing the air of a ragged wound torn into the side of Shasta Trinity. The pods jutted into the ground at odd, unsettling angles, utterly still, dark, gleaming, and alien against the muted palette of the surrounding woodland.

Veetor immediately halted, unable to continue. It looked wrong, so _wrong. _It was a field of empty-eyed, gaping monoliths. They were silent and dead, their sleek shape stirring up those old, hated images again, of pods being carried away, of figures frozen and indistinct against the harsh glow of the security screen.

He could hear his breath in his ears, harsh and staccato, and he backed away further, nearly tripping over something he couldn't see. "No." He said simply.

"Veetor, we have to," Delor's tone was pleading as she turned to him. "There could be survivors inside, or nearby. We might even find the ship! We have to help our friends."

"I don't-I-I can't-" he broke off as Kal grabbed his shoulder. He jerkily twisted to look at the other quarian, but didn't pull away.

"Stay here, then. Keep low." Kal'Reegar looked to Delor. "I'll go make sure it's not a trap. "

"By yourself?" Delor asked skeptically.

"We can't leave him here by himself," Kal pointed out. "And he's not in any shape to go in there."

Delor mulled it over, lowering her visor. Finally, she sighed, nodded, and hefted her shotgun. "Okay. Yell if you need me."

Kal nodded, turned, and strode off into the field, advancing carefully, one step at a time.

Delor watched him tensely. Veetor felt a stab of guilt as he saw Kal advancing alone. For all of his competence, he looked very small against the menacing bulk of the scattered pods. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, Veetor," Delor looked to him. Her tone had been tense and clipped, but she caught herself, and said a touch more softly, "No. You can't help the way you are. And forcing you to go in would have been dangerous to us _and_ you. So don't apologize."

Veetor looked at the ground. Shame bubbled up, rivaling his fear, but not overpowering it. "I wish I could."

"Could what?"

"Change the way I am."

Delor made a sound behind her visor that might have been a snort. "That's a problem all of us face. You see that man out there?" She gestured towards Kal, taking one hand momentarily off her weapon. "Stubbornly walking into the face of danger by himself? You know why he's doing that?"

"Because of me?"

"Because he can't help the way he is, either," Delor replied, a smile in her voice as she turned to survey the field. Kal disappeared from sight, and she tensed more visibly. Once again Veetor found himself frustrated by his own helplessness. He shifted from foot to foot anxiously, growing more and more afraid, but not for himself for once. He was afraid for Kal.

If anything happened to him, if Kal got hurt before they could reach him, it would be horrible. After all he'd done for both of them… Veetor wanted desperately to help, but his sense of obligation was still not strong enough to quell his fear. He stayed where he was.

The minutes stretched on. They waited, both of them growing more and more tense by the second. And then, suddenly, Kal reappeared, waving briefly and jogging to close the distance between them. "Ship's up ahead. Group of about six. Looks like we found our reinforcements."

Delor sagged with relief, muttering her thanks to Keelah and stepping forward. "How are they doing?"

"I dropped in and came back for you two. You'll have to ask them yourself," Kal replied with a shrug, "Go on ahead. I'll take care of Veetor."

Delor looked back to Veetor, suddenly noticing that in her haste to be reunited with her comrades, she'd already stepped away from him, and nodded, "Oh. Okay." She sounded a little embarrassed, but hurried on when she saw the marine had it under control.

Veetor looked to Kal, then back to the pods. "Um. I'll… I'll try-"

"We can go around them, Veetor. They don't surround the ship like I thought," Kal said, holding up a hand to halt Veetor's words. He paused, tilting his head, and added, "But thanks for offering. Come on."

He led the way around the clearing, Veetor at his heels. Veetor felt tiredly grateful for his consideration. "Is my doctor there?" He asked hopefully as they moved.

"I didn't see her, but I didn't go inside. I just talked to the captain."

Veetor hung his head. He didn't know how much longer he could hold out. He had become dependent on Elan'Shiya. She had been there to help him at his darkest time of need and her strength was his strength. He thought back to when he had told her this, and she had shaken her head saying that her job, as a doctor, was to heal, not to protect. She was not there to hold him up. She was there to help him to hold himself up.

"You'll stand on your own someday, Veetor," she'd said.

Maybe. But today was not that day. Veetor was tired of standing. He felt stretched taut, like the string of an instrument, ready to cry out at a single touch. He needed rest and comfort now.

"If she isn't there, we'll find her." Kal's voice broke his thoughts. Veetor looked up. The other quarian was looking back at him. "We're not going to leave her behind, Veetor. You've got my word." He reached out and put a hand on Veetor's shoulder.

Veetor didn't flinch. The usual spike of nervousness that flared up whenever someone else touched him failed to respond by the now-familiar gesture from the soldier. "Okay," he said. After a moment he added, "Thanks, Kal."

The soldier nodded. "Don't mention it."


	4. Familiarity and Accountability

Author's Note: This chapter was a little more difficult for me to piece together. Dunno why.

Thanks, as always, for your support! And to answer your question, Jo, I am actually from Tennessee.

As I get farther into the story, I'll try and think of a better summary, I swear. I'm aware of how cheesy it is, but I am helpless to stop its delicious cheddar-flavored reign! Anyway. On with the chapter.

**/Chapter 3 - Familiarity and Accountability**

"Fair these broad meads-these hoary woods are grand

But we are exiles from our fathers' land."

-John Galt, _Canadian Boat Song_

Dawn came, silently and without fanfare. The air slowly stirred itself out of its nighttime chilly state, and reluctant shreds of mist arched away from the ground, crisscrossing each other in a pale translucent latticework before they dissolved. Above, the gas giant was still visible in the fading dark, its surface so impossibly huge as to look flat from the ground. It was beautiful.

It was all completely lost on Kal'Reegar. It was the fourth day he'd been on this moon, and the fourth day of four days too many, in his opinion. He stood, the muzzle of his assault rifle angled towards the ground as he paused to simply listen to the surrounding woodland. Soft scuffling came to his ears. Tiny creatures abandoning their nocturnal adventures and fleeing to the safety of the underground? Most likely. He heard the careful, deliberate step of the small deer-like animals he'd seen on the mountain. Leaves settled. Branches creaked in the sluggish breezes. The muted symphony around him was oddly calming and deceptively peaceful.

He, Veetor, and Delor had arrived in the early afternoon of the previous day. Once his comrades were safe and settled, Kal'Reegar had immediately met with the captain to discuss the situation. It turned out the crew of the _Kildeira_ had managed to land their vessel. "Land" was perhaps a generous word for it. The ship had hit the ground and remained largely in one piece, and that was about as fancy as the maneuvering had been. It would certainly never fly again, but it provided suitable shelter from the elements. As soon as the ship had stopped moving and the crew had gotten their bearings, they had focused on two things: getting as many quarians to their location as possible, and getting their ship operational enough to send a long-range distress signal to speed up any search efforts that might be under way.

They'd spent the first few days assessing the damage, tending to the wounded, and sending out small scouting parties. It was by sheer luck that they hadn't run into the unpleasant fellows they shared this moon with, Kal decided. A shipwreck was hard to miss. Unless, of course, that meant that he had stumbled upon an isolated settlement, and there were no other outposts to deal with. Though he hoped this was the case, he grimly doubted it.

This moon was also wild and unforgivably rugged. He couldn't exactly blame anyone looking for them for having trouble doing so. That was, unfortunately, a two-way street. Their rescuers would need all the help they could get to locate the stranded quarians. Aside from that, the moment the distress signal went up, their location would be a beacon for all to see.

So Kal'Reegar and the captain had formulated the following plan. They would continue to scout, sending out more extensive parties to try and gather as many survivors as possible. In the meantime, the quarians at camp would work on ship repair, and they would do what they could to secure their location. It was not an ideal situation, but what they needed now was to bunker down and be able to hold off an enemy assault.

Kal moved forward, hearing nothing strange in the early-morning patterns of sound that wove through the air, hefting his rifle at the ready once again. He would have preferred to be on the field, leading a scouting team, but the camp sorely needed his firepower. He also had more experience in defensive positions. The technicians that were working on the ship were key to escape, and aside from that, there were wounded in the camp that needed defending.

_But no doctors. _Kal found himself thinking of Elan'Shiya. When they'd arrived, they had discovered that she was not with the crew, and had not yet been found. Veetor had been highly upset, but was able to be calmed. She was simply not yet found, the crew had insisted. They would find her. Kal wanted to be optimistic, but he feared the worst.

It wasn't long before his watch was relieved, and he made his way back to the camp. As Kal moved through the hastily-assembled camp, he saw Delor crouching with another quarian to try and crack one of the still-sealed dud pods for extra medi-gel.

It suddenly occurred to him that, without the doctor, and with Delor resuming her previous duties, nobody was making sure that Veetor was… what was the right phrase? Looked after? Kal figured he might as well make it partially his responsibility. Veetor had held up pretty bravely the night before, but it wouldn't hurt to make sure he hadn't wedged himself into a tight space and started babbling or anything equally distressing.

He had been pleasantly surprised by the other's determination over the past few days. Seeing the quarian at the top of the mountain, modifying Delor's tracking device, had been an eye-opening experience. For all his faults, Veetor was undeniably a genius. When he was motivated, and the conditions were right, he was capable of great things. Kal had descended the mountain in a state of impressed approval.

He'd been brought back to down to earth when Veetor had balked at the field of empty escape pods. He was never allowed to forget that whatever Veetor did, however great his actions were, underneath it all he was still... just _Veetor. _It had made him a little sad.

He stopped to check in on the wounded. They had gathered a lot of medi-gel so far, but the ship's initial supply had been lost, and all they had to work with was from the escape pod supplies. There were several quarians laid up here, some of them asleep. Their injuries ranged from broken limbs to internal damage and, in one worrying case, a suit puncture.

He was surprised to find Veetor there. He was crouching over a wounded quarian with a pack already tightly bound around his leg. Kal didn't know his name, but recognized him as one of the older crewman aboard the fallen _Kildeira. _

A newly-appointed orderly was standing near Veetor. "Okay, now, just pull up the new subroutine in your Omni-tool, and it should disperse."

Veetor nodded and waved his Omni-tool over the injured quarian's leg.

The quarian stirred and shifted his helmet slightly. Apparently, he'd been asleep. He wasn't now. "Thanks, son," he said in an alarmingly soft, weak voice, "You new on the ship? You look new."

Veetor stared back at him for a moment, his eyes so wide that their shape was visible behind the polished curve of his visor. "Yes," he responded after a moment. He evidently hadn't expected to be so suddenly spoken to like that.

"Good. Good. Always good to have young ones around. Handy with that Omni-tool." The older quarian rested his head back. His voice was marked by an accent that Kal'Reegar didn't recognize, a low exotic burr. "'M sorry, son, I have a headache. You should get Rora'Balai to show you around. Been on this ship forever. Older'n me! They say she even done all the retrofittin' in the cargo hold. You seen it? The old rubber floor and all?"

Veetor stared steadily back, and said, "Yes. I did."

"They say she done it."

It wasn't long before he was asleep again. Veetor stared at him silently for a few long moments, and the orderly standing next to him knelt to put a hand on his shoulder. Veetor flinched and looked up. "Thanks, Nara. He could use all the help he could get."

"It's okay. I just wasn't-I'm not hurt, so I didn't need it," Veetor replied quickly.

Kal realized then just what he'd witnessed. Veetor had used his suit's personal medi-gel supply on a sleepy older quarian with a broken leg. He crossed his arms and leaned on the doorframe. In that moment, it occurred to him that being "just Veetor" wasn't a bad thing at all. "Veetor."

Veetor looked up and stood so suddenly that the quarian who'd been holding onto his shoulder stumbled a bit. Veetor turned, apologizing profusely, but the other attendant laughingly waved him off and moved on to check on the next patient. The twitchy quarian turned to regard the soldier. "Hello, Kal."

"How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine." He looked around, and added, for Kal's benefit, "These people are sick, so I came to help them. Everyone else is very busy."

It was true. There weren't many personnel to spare in tending to the wounded. Though it was a high priority, having healthy quarians would mean nothing if they were all stranded here. The few quarians dedicated to their makeshift medical bay were quite busy.

Kal nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure they appreciate the help." He watched Veetor carefully. He wanted to ask Veetor if he was really okay, if he needed something, because he was sure that this situation was unsettling his companion. Veetor was doing a rather good job of keeping his more obvious nervous tics at bay. Aside from his gently-twitching fingers, he was behaving rather calmly.

He wasn't looking rapidly around, or shifting his weight like some kind of wild animal able to run. He'd been _that _tense when Kal found him. The marine suspected that it might have something to do with being around so many other quarians. There were just enough people around to make him feel secure, but not enough to trigger an adverse reaction. Even as he came to that conclusion, he wondered just when _he'd _become an expert on Veetor's body language.

"Well, I'm going to get some sleep. I'll be on the west side of camp if you need anything."

Veetor nodded. "Okay, Kal."

Kal'Reegar retreated, and was soon lying down on a makeshift bed in the shelter of what remained of a section of the ship's hull. Getting to sleep, however, was another matter. Something was nagging at his mind.

It was Veetor, of course. Kal knew that, by rights, he had done everything he was obligated to in regards to the other man. He had kept him stable and brought him back. He was not really meant to be the marine's problem any longer. The most sensible thing to do would be to pass his care onto someone else and focus his attention solely on his new duties.

But he couldn't help but feel that assigning just _any_ quarian to the task would be wrong. Someone who was distracted might miss a sign that Veetor was about to freak out. Veetor would have trouble sleeping if he wasn't distracted, which was something Kal had learned already. Doubtless Elan'Shiya knew how to make sure that Veetor was balanced and calm even better than Kal did, but she wasn't here. Nobody else here knew Veetor very well, except maybe Delor.

And, as busy as Kal was, she was even busier.

He didn't really have to look after Veetor any longer. But he still wanted to.

It wouldn't be hard to do. He could simply check on the other a few times a day and keep him holding on until they found Elan. It wasn't enough to interfere with his other duties. He could even take his meals with Veetor. "Kill two birds with one stone," as the humans said. Yes. That arrangement sounded much more satisfactory.

Once he'd reached that conclusion, he was finally able to sleep.

/

The rest of that day was busy. Kal briefed the patrols on what to look for. Equipment, supplies, and ammunition were dispersed, and communication devices were tested and synchronized. The camp was a bustle of tense activity. Mealtime was a welcome break from it all. Even though the assembled quarians were just sucking paste from an in-suit nutrient tube because of the conditions, they still grouped up with one another. In their harsh conditions, they relied on one another to stay strong. It was simply in their nature.

Kal saw Veetor sitting by himself, of course. It didn't look as if he were actively avoiding his kinsmen. He simply seemed oblivious. His head was depressed, his body still, apparently absorbed in his own thoughts. That could be a dangerous trap for someone with a mind like Veetor's. It could also be the only way he knew how to keep safe.

That struck Kal'Reegar as an appalling thing. No quarian should ever be alone. It was unthinkable. The soldier was fiercely loyal to his people. He put his life on the line for them on a regular basis. That burning determination had kept him going in more than one dicey situation. Kal sat next to Veetor, where the quarian was huddled in the shelter of the ship, facing away from the escape pods. "Hey."

Veetor looked to him quickly, but just as quickly relaxed. Kal was pleased to see that. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Kal's mood took an abrupt u-turn at those words. "I just thought… that you needed some company. Or, uh, somethin'." Kal'Reegar had never counted himself among the most eloquent of quarians, but that was bad, even for him. The marine had spent too much time around Veetor. Now he was starting to _sound_ like him.

The other quarian stared at him for a long time before he said, "Okay."

There was silence as they took advantage of the first few awkward moments, taking in a few mouthfuls of food from the nutrient tubes built into their suits. When it became apparent that Veetor wasn't going to initiate conversation, Kal tried. "How did you do that?"

Once again, his non-sequitur had caught Veetor off-guard. "What?"

"Earlier. Sorry." Damn, he wasn't good at this. "Back on the mountain, when you were doing that… whatever you did with Delor's device. I've never seen someone type on an Omni-tool like that."

"Oh. I've always done that. When I get upset, I just… move faster."

"_Thinks_ faster is what it looked like." Realization smacked Kal upside the head. "Back at the guard house, when you were looking at all of those screens at once. That's what happened."

Veetor apparently didn't know how to reply to that. He looked down for a few moments. "Yes." A pause. "Wh-when I was young, they told me I was gifted."

"Keelah, you _are."_

Veetor glanced Kal's way and then back at the ground. Had he upset Veetor? The other seemed to be at a loss as to what to do with himself after that statement. Kal remained silent, not wanting to further upset Veetor and worrying that he'd somehow pushed too far and shoved the poor fellow back into a more fragile state of mind. Then he noticed the way Veetor was wringing his fingers and realized that rather than upset, he was stricken dumb by simple shyness.

He felt a sudden warm rush of accomplishment.

"Thank you." Veetor said quietly.

The sensation doubled. "Don't mention it." After a thoughtful pause, he added, "It's the truth."

They fell relatively quiet after that, but it was a companionable silence. Two strangers had become familiar with one another, perhaps a bit faster than they might have under ordinary circumstances, but genuinely so, all the same. They were friends. In a chaotic, dangerous, and uncertain world, they knew exactly where they stood with one another.

Or they thought they did.

/

As Kal excused himself, Veetor watched him go.

His heart was hammering violently under the thick layers of his envirosuit, pounding away so frantically that he almost expected to see his thudding pulse if he looked down. Veetor was used to being frightened. He had always been a nervous fellow, but ever since the incident with the Collectors, he'd been more prone into flying into mindless fits of blinding panic.

Though this new sensation was powerful, it was not quite like those.

He turned to look at the comfortingly solid ground. He felt a little scared, in a weird way, but also curiously anxious and a little happy. He didn't really understand it, but that didn't stop him from feeling it.

It was Kal. He stared after the marine, watching the shape of his red suit recede and then become absorbed by the camp. He didn't quite know what to make of it. It was not quite like fear, but also not necessarily a good feeling. It left him on edge, every nerve humming intently. His stomach twisted. He felt vaguely sick, but the dizzy lurch was kind of nice. He didn't know what was wrong with him.

But he _did_ know that he was looking forward to the next time Kal'Reegar came around, so he left it at that.

/

The sky darkened, the vague impression of the great stripey gas giant sharpened, and night fell over the camp. The biggest disturbance that had come through the camp that day had been from a small flock of flying creatures, thick-skinned and featherless, moving in a loose "v" formation, crossing over the camp. It looked as if, against all odds, the group could expect no more trouble.

Kal wasn't sure what to make of it. They had encountered no more signs of habitation and had been given no other reason to believe they could expect more unpleasant company here. That didn't mean they were letting their guard down, or could relax. After all, it had only been one more day, and the moon was a large place to quarter on foot. Shasta Trinity might still have surprises in store for them.

Nevertheless, the repair crews were only perhaps two more days away from setting up an operational signal, and everyone was leaning towards activating it as soon as possible. As Kal'Reegar discussed it with the captain, he had recommended Veetor for the project. The other quarian's talents could only speed the repair along.

Kal returned to camp after his late-day patrol, moving with the dusk. An air of hopeful desperation had settled over the gathering of quarians. The conditions were harsh, and the survivors knew they couldn't hold out forever, but with a possible rescue imminent and all signs pointing to peace on the surface itself, spirits had risen slightly. It was a feeling that was familiar to most quarians.

That mixture of hope and fear, dancing on the edge of disaster, carefully marshaling one's hopes against the possibility of a grim reality, but never truly giving up on them-that was something that pulsed through the core of quarian culture. It had been their way for the past two hundred years.

Kal paused at the edge of camp, soaking this in. This was who he was. He could feel the bonds that drew him to these people so hard it hurt. Quarians weren't perfect. They had disagreements. But this, ultimately, was what he charged into the heat of battle for, again and again. These lives. This _feeling. _Thus grounded, he moved in for some dinner, spotted Veetor, and altered his course.

Veetor looked up as he sat down, watched him settle himself, and said, "They asked me to help with our signal."

"Good," Kal said, settling himself and nodding, "They could use someone like you on the team."

"You told them, didn't you?"

Kal'Reegar blinked, taken aback by how quickly Veetor had made the connection, and then felt immediately guilty for such surprise. Veetor had his own problems, yes, but stupidity wasn't one of them. He realized, with sudden irony, that this must be what some people experienced when speaking with him. The soldier had surprised more than one person with his astute observations. "Damn straight. Figured it would get us off this rock quicker."

Veetor was quiet after that. Kal sucked a few mouthfuls from his nutrient tube in the silence. "They're being very nice to me. It's… it's a good feeling. Helping people." His tone was strangely uncertain.

"I'm glad you get to be a part of it," Kal'Reegar was surprised to hear himself say. He had been thinking that very thing, but he hadn't expected it to just fly out of his mouth like that.

Veetor looked at the ground. Kal didn't need to see his face to recognize shyness when he saw it. Once again the conversation paused, and once again Kal didn't mind the silence. He also didn't mind when Veetor broke it suddenly, in a flurry of words, "He's doing a lot better. The… I was helping out again in the place where we're keeping all of the people who got hurt." Kal waited patiently while Veetor gathered his thoughts. "The man who was looking over us in flight? That took you away to speak? His suit's the one that… well. Everyone thinks they fixed it in time. His arm's broken, but they think he's going to be okay."

"That's good to hear." Kal'Reegar nodded.

"I hope we find Elan soon," Veetor went on. "I hope she's not hurt."

Kal leaned over and placed his hand on Veetor's shoulder. "She's going to be okay, and we're going to find her." He was a little surprised to see the other quarian relax a little. The gesture that had unnerved him only days before was starting to calm him.

"Okay," Veetor responded.

Another pause. Kal'Reegar let the silence linger comfortably. It was nice to see Veetor so at ease, especially considering the condition he'd been in only a few days ago. It made him feel like he was doing his job. It made the toil of the day, the strain of constant wariness, more bearable.

"Kal, this… this place," Veetor blurted out, "it reminds me of Freedom's Progress."

That sense of calm and accomplishment vanished instantly. "What?"

"Like… it's…" Veetor struggled, and Kal saw his shoulders hunch in tension. "It's small, and lonely here, and we're all working together, and I'm trying to help. It's nothing like Freedom's Progress, really. It's not the same place," he clarified, as if Kal had been confused on that matter, "but it feels-it _feels_ like-"

"This," Kal interrupted, standing up, "ain't Freedom's Progress."

Kal'Reegar was not a doctor. He was a marine. He didn't know how to handle someone with Veetor's delicate state of mind. The closest he could do was to keep fresh recruits from quailing from the shriek of battle and the hail of gunfire. As such, the things he said that night were not perhaps what were best for Veetor. They were all he had to offer, though.

"Nothing bad's going to happen here, Veetor. And if it does, we'll be damned _ready. _We're not going to get taken off guard by pirates, the Collectors, or anyone. And if something does happen, if someone does show up, we'll be ready for them. They'll have to deal with me before they get to you. Understand?"

Veetor was staring at him, frozen.

In a gentler voice, perhaps realizing that he'd spoken too harshly to the other quarian, Kal added, "You've got nothin' to be afraid of."

"Okay."

Afterward, once they had parted for the night and Kal was marching off to get some sleep, he wondered if he'd done the right thing. Unintentionally, he had put Veetor in a delicate state of mind. A wrong push could send him over the edge again, and that would be a damn shame.

Not because Veetor was useful. Just because he was Veetor. Under the genius, under the illness, under everything there was a good man down there, and Kal'Reegar didn't want to lose him. _He deserves better than this_, he thought angrily, _Hell, we _all _do. _

He stopped, the angry rush of his breath hissing in and out of his respirator. Frost glittered on the trees and the sparse grass, lining everything in a harsh, icy glimmer. This place could be beautiful, but it was not for Veetor. Kal felt helpless, and angry because of it. He told himself that he was just going to do the best he could to keep Veetor from slipping away each day. The other quarian was not helpless, and was doing a lot of standing on his own.

He needed his doctor, though. Kal didn't think he would last long without her, without the familiar bulwark of her compassion and her care. The more he thought about it, the more he realized what she must have sacrificed to have brought her patient this far. This Elan'Shiya was a remarkable woman. He would speak to the captain about leading the team farther out, as much for her sake as for Veetor's.

He didn't think about why he was so dedicated to this odd fellow. He simply chalked it up to duty and didn't worry about it. He was right, for the most part. He cared for Veetor largely because he was a quarian, and because he needed help. But more and more he was pushing forward because he simply felt Veetor deserved it.

As he resumed his march, he was arrested by his name. He looked over his shoulder to find the quarian that had been occupying his thoughts approaching. He turned and let Veetor draw near.

"I just… I never said thank you. For everything." Veetor stuttered out as he skidded to a stop.

"I'm pretty sure you did," Kal reminded him, his voice gruffly amused. He was privately relieved to see his pep-talk had been beneficial, and had not, after all, upset Veetor.

Veetor stared back. "Oh. Well. I wanted to say it again. I just… I'm not as scared. It's been a long time since I've been… unafraid on my own. I think it's because of you."

It was Kal's turn to be embarrassed. "I… uh, I don't think it's just me, Veetor-"

"Oh, no, I know it's not." Veetor replied bluntly. Kal was amused rather than offended. "But you helped. I… well. Thank you."

"You don't have to keep thanking me."

"I want to."

"…well, okay then."

They stood, staring at one another rather awkwardly. Kal was about to bid Veetor good-night when he was alerted by shouting at the edge of the camp.

Almost before he had consciously realized it, he was moving, his ever-present weapon drawn, eating up the distance between himself and the noise with great swinging strides. He halted sharply, staring at the seething cluster of quarians.

"Back up, back up! Give him some air!" An absurdly tall female quarian in a dark suit was waving the crowd off. A male quarian was kneeling next to her. His helmet had an ugly scratch across the front, and the cloth accents of his suit were torn. Twigs and tree-needles clung to the awkward creases in his suit. He looked as if he'd simply rolled over the countryside to arrive at their camp.

Kal felt Veetor draw up behind him. He didn't turn. "What's happening here?"

"We found him on our way back. He's hungry and he's tired, and we need to get him food and rest before anything else," the tall female insisted.

"They took them," he gasped suddenly. His voice was ragged and breathless, as if he'd forgotten to breathe before he spoke. "We-we found each other. Looked for more survivors. There were six of us. The engine crew and-and two passengers."

"Look, just relax," the tall quarian soothed, "You can tell us all of this in the morning."

"No, we can't wait, we have to go now, _now, _they took them," he insisted, suddenly alive with agitation. He stood. "They took them!"

The crowd was stepping aside as the impromptu medical team moved towards the man. Kal felt Veetor push past him, moving forward into the crowd and saying in a voice that was loud, but shaking, "You said passengers."

The tall quarian looked sharply to him, and Kal put his hand on Veetor's shoulder. "Veetor, he-"

"Was the doctor with them? Elan'Shiya?"

The bedraggled quarian turned to look to him, his movements loose and liquid with fatigue. It was strange to see someone so clearly at the end of their wits juxtaposed against Veetor who, by comparison, was quite stable. "The doctor?"

"Was the doctor with them?" Veetor asked again.

"She was with us."

Veetor began to shake. Kal's fingers tightened and he pulled back gently, trying hard to make the hoarse notes of his voice soothing, and failing rather miserably, _"Veetor-"_

"What happened? Where are they?"

"They took them. The women fought. The doctor and-and I don't know her name, but the other one, she was screaming. And then they hit her. They hit the doctor in the head, and she fell-"

Veetor made a strangled sound.

"She didn't get up-"

Veetor screamed. It was an utterly chilling sound, high-pitched, piercing, ringing with pure crazed loss. Kal pulled him away from the quarian, who was still babbling, and before he realized when he was doing, had grabbed the quarian by his shoulders. "Veetor-"

Veetor began to struggle, and did not stop screaming.

"Veetor, you have to-"

The twitchy quarian began to chatter nonsensically, his voice low and hoarse, his eyes tightly closed behind his visor. His words dissolved into low sounds. He was too choked with grief to sob, to say anything, he could only make these noises that ripped themselves raw from deep inside him, more eloquently conveying his anger and grief than any words. He lowered his visor and stared at some invisible point at Kal'Reegar's chest.

He was close to breaking. Maybe he had already broken. The sudden realization that he might lose Veetor sent an electrical thrill of fear through Kal'Reegar.

He wasn't going to let that happen.


	5. Holding Out

**Author's Note: **BAWW YOU GUYS ARE SO GREAT. Thank you for your kind reviews. I'm glad to know y'all are enjoying this. I'm having a lot of fun writing it.

This chapter was fun for me. Once again I had a little difficulty trying to do the Veetor-POV parts, but it was a fun challenge. I'm going to say the word "fun" again. The sudden and constant POV changes are a one-time thing, I promise. I felt they suited the events of this chapter, but I plan not to chop things up quite so much from now on.

UM. CRAP. Out of interesting things to say. On with the chapter!

**/Chapter 4 - Holding Out**

"For he strove in battles dire,

In unseen conflictions with shapes

Bred from his forsaken wilderness."

-William Blake, _The First Book of Urizen_

The camp was understandably thrown into disarray by the news. They cleared out a space in the downed ship where the newcomer could be cared for without disturbing the other patients. They had no sedatives to give him, and instead were forced to rely on only what comfort they could offer. Kal'Reegar found himself in a similar situation. In his opinion, medicines and chemicals wouldn't solve Veetor's problem, but he was left without even skilled medical advice. There was no-one to help Veetor get through this but Kal. He only hoped it would be enough.

Veetor muttered as Kal led him away from the others, muttering splintered thoughts that seemed to have little relation to one another. He needed to find some place where Veetor would be comfortable. The interior of the ship was more or less packed, and he knew Veetor had never liked the dark sprawl of the surrounding woodlands. In the end, he'd had to settle for a place outside the ship, where an arc of wreckage had made a sort of overhang. Veetor would have the comfort of a close space, and instead of looking out at the woods, he could look at Kal.

Once he'd convinced Veetor to sit, the quarian had shut up. Kal watched him warily, unsure of what this meant. Perhaps his silence was a good sign. Maybe he was going to be okay after all? Time passed, and Veetor didn't say anything. He just sat stock-still and facing forward. Was he angry? Kal couldn't tell. He waited for him to respond.

A good fifteen minutes passed. It was a testament to Kal's insecurity with the situation that he stayed quiet the entire time. As the minutes dragged by, Veetor's silence began to unnerve the marine more than his babbling had. It seemed to say that he was withdrawing now, pulling himself firmly and securely in the shelter of his own mind. "Veetor, you still with me?"

Nothing.

/

The last vestiges of stability had been cut free, and Veetor's mind was a churning maelstrom of disconnected thought. Waves of emotion so powerful that they _hurt _wracked through him, shook him to his core, and released him back into the bewildering storm. Pockets of memory drifted by like icebergs, plunging him back into them as they passed.

He remembered the screams. A distant chorus of them, and how they'd been so abruptly cut off. Remembered the first time he saw that terrible ship, suspended in an unnatural vertical line in the air, its shape dark, bulbous, and foreboding. It was a dark pillar suspended between the ground and the sky, and its passing unleashed a storm of swarms.

He remembered the thin whine in the air. He could hear it even though his shelter. He remembered holding his head and trying hard not to scream. They were coming for him next. No-one escaped. How he bunkered down, trying to find some shelter that would drown out sounds. Each minute that passed left him fearing the next, where the would burst down the doors and fill the air with those flying needles and take him away…

He remembered pulling himself up onto the desk, clawing his way into the seat. He remembered the screens. He remembered his mind quickly seizing control of the chaos and his fingers flying over his Omni-tool.

He remembered the Collectors.

/

Kal felt his stomach twist. Dammit. After everything they'd been through over the past few hard days, after all the progress he thought he'd made, Veetor really _had_ snapped in an instant. Kal stared at him. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. As a marine, he'd sometimes had to deliver the bad news to quarians waiting for their loved ones to return that the soldier they'd sent away wouldn't be coming back. He'd always tried to be gentle, but he wasn't really the type.

There were other quarians in the camp, of course. There were other people who could try to help Veetor, but the twitchy quarian knew Kal better than any of them. His best chance of getting through this would be with a familiar presence to guide him out of this strange fugue. "You don't have to say anything." That was good, because Veetor didn't. Kal went quiet again and just continued to stare, floundering helplessly. It simply wasn't a situation that he was equipped to handle. Bands of well-armed enemies he could deal with. A traumatized quarian in a fragile state of mind was another thing entirely.

He sat. That seemed like a start. It wasn't enough of one. He reached out and touched the other's shoulder, remembering how Veetor had relaxed a little just hours earlier, and how gratifying that had felt. "Veetor." No response. "Veetor, listen to me. I…" Shit, where to start? "I know you're upset right now. I know… how you feel." He was startled to realize that he did.

Perhaps not exactly, but loss was an emotion that they had in common. Half of the people Kal'Reegar had ever known were dead. The more he thought about it, the more he remembered that churning mixture of wrenching heartbreak, fear, and pure overpowering roiling rage he'd felt when he thought he was about to lose Tali.

Only Veetor wasn't the angry sort. He was quieter, gentler, and instead of possibly losing someone, he'd just definitely and irretrievably _had. _"She was a good woman. Damn fine woman," he added.

Nothing.

/

Veetor remembered the moment the screens went blank. He remembered the stunned realization that had followed. He remembered Shepard, an unfamiliar but powerful presence, and then Tali, who had put her arm around his shoulder once the humans were gone. Her voice, soft-spoken and soothing. Those were good memories.

He remembered going home, remembered his burgeoning terror at the crowds, and then they introduced him to his doctor.

_Elan. _Loss welled unchecked within him, but he was paralyzed, unable to make a sound even to grieve. He railed against the disconnection between his mind and body with the last of his desperation before he finally succumbed to the roiling dark confusion again.

Revisiting her care only hurt him now. He was lost without Elan, and she had been cruelly repaid for her efforts to save him. Why _her? _Why did she have to suffer? He remembered her voice, her calmness. It dug into him and he wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He was mercifully released from the memory.

He remembered the hospital. A soldier. That was important. Why was it important? This detail he could not remember. He wanted to say something. His mouth worked silently-or did he imagine it? Maybe?

His fragile mind went down again under the strain.

/

Kal felt a spark of anger. None of them had asked for any of this. They had simply left home, just for a few days, and what had happened? Some unknown foe had shot them down. Now, some of them were dead. Now, one of them might have passed into a state of living death that Kal might not be able to save him from. And for what? No good reason!

If he lost Veetor to this, there was going to be hell to pay. No, there was going to be worse than hell to pay.

There was going to be _Kal'Reegar _to pay.

"She wouldn't have wanted it to be this way. Not after everything she did for you! She had to've cared about you a great deal. Don't let that be for nothin', Veetor. Not after everything she did. Not after everything she went through."

Nothing.

/

Once, he had been brave. He remembered it, so it was true.

Once he had boarded the _Rayya. _Such an enormous ship! He remembered how close he'd stuck to his doctor-Elan, Elan, _why_-how she had at times soothed him, but just as often would simply watch him. How proud he felt when she did that.

He remembered the human again. Gratitude. Her strangeness, which was a different kind of insanity than his own. Her madness shook worlds. It drew people like Tali to her. And then he was plunged cruelly into a memory within a memory, and a familiar, soothing voice said, "Veetor, come back."

Elan. _Elan. _

It only drove him further away to remember it.

Someone was talking to him? He couldn't tell.

/

Frustration made he marine indelicate. "Keelah, we've been through enough for you to hang on for _me_ now! You made it, Veetor. _We_ made it. It wasn't easy, but we did. We came through hell to get to this place. Don't let _all of that be for nothin'_."

Veetor stared resolutely and blankly at the ground.

/

The voice was low, and rough. It clipped the endings off words. It growled and rattled in his skull like gunfire. It was a hard voice, a commanding voice. It was used to giving orders. It was not sly, but it was still subtly clever. Veetor was confused. How could he know so much about a voice from its tone?

He couldn't. Like a tiny thread, like a fishing line, that voice caught him. Confused him. It held him steady as the roaring torrent of his mind, unhinged and full of mad energy, rushed around him.

Another memory came to him.

/

"She wouldn't have wanted it, Veetor. Not this." Kal felt grim defeat taking him in its jaws and shaking him. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and horribly bitter. He hung his head. "_I _don't want this."

/

"Damn straight. Tali's done more for this Fleet than you assholes ever will!"

Veetor had been standing, alone, doing the most terrifying thing of his life, and then suddenly there'd been this man beside him, and the strength in his voice had made Veetor a little less afraid. That voice was arresting, and it forced all that heard it to pay attention. It made Veetor to stand up straighter.

"You're pissing on everything I fought for! Everything Tali fought for! So if you exile her…"

That same voice was here now, superimposed on itself, so similar and yet so different, but unmistakably the same voice. It was at once a moment of confusion and revelation. How could this voice be in two places at once?

"You might as well do the same to me."

Comprehension, elusive and slippery, grasped in his fingers… Veetor felt his throat working. "You?"

/

"You?"

Veetor's voice was so tremulous and soft that Kal thought he'd perhaps imagined it. He looked up. The other quarian's mask was angled differently. Kal realized that he hadn't imagined it, and suddenly the weight of Veetor's recovery hung on his next words. For some reason, that thought intimidated him more than anything he could remember. He'd rather look down the barrel of an M-920 Cain than be responsible for this.

With no idea what to say, he decided to just keep talking. He decided to be honest. "I've only known you a few days. I didn't know what to think when I met you." He paused. "I still don't." He admitted, and then went quiet for a few moments. Then he added, in a tone of voice that only three people had ever heard him use in his entire life, two of which were dead, "But I want to try and figure it out. Don't give up before I get that chance."

Veetor started to shake. He made soft sounds, as if he'd forgotten how to speak, and raised his hands. He looked at them, and then at the marine. He said, "Kal."

"Yeah." He tried to keep his voice calm, but he couldn't help but feel a jolt of excitement. "It's me."

"Kal, I…"

"It's okay. I'm h-oof!"

The other quarian had flung himself at Kal'Reegar and then clung to him fiercely, bunching up the fabric of the outer layers of the marine's suit between his fingers, pushing the side of his visor hard against Kal's padded chest. His eyes were tightly shut and he was shaking like a plucked wire. Kal was not really a touchy-feely kind of guy, under most circumstances, but he knew better than to discourage Veetor now.

And, to be honest with himself, he was relieved by it. He reached up and returned the frantic embrace, though much more awkwardly and a lot less tightly. "I've got you."

/

Kal'Reegar. Everything snapped back into its place, memories rushed rapidly through his perception, drawn secure by their re-established moorings. Veetor clawed his way through the sea of unconsciousness, through that living-death, found Kal, and clung tight. The other was trying to save him. In a way, he'd succeeded, but it was a battle that had to be fought on both fronts.

Kal could reach out for him, but Veetor had to hold on.

So he did.

/

The night passed. Veetor did not sleep. Kal'Reegar did not sleep. The marine was more accustomed to this sort of thing, so he could handle it, but by the morning Veetor was exhausted. He'd grieved for Elan, mostly in silence, and not once had he let go of Kal'Reegar. It was a little humbling and more than a little embarrassing to be the rock on which another person anchored themselves to reality for a night. Kal found that he didn't really mind as much as he thought he might have. By the time dawn rolled around, they'd said maybe ten more words to one another. Kal'Reegar mainly just periodically checked to make sure that Veetor was still with him.

By dawn, Veetor finally loosened his hold and raised his visor. He looked past Kal at the gathering, watery light. He blinked. "Oh."

"Yep," Kal replied with gruff amusement.

"I hadn't-I'm sorry, Kal, I-"

"Don't you _dare_ apologize." Kal said it with such sudden vehemence and authority that Veetor sat up rigidly, almost like a soldier at attention. "Uh. I mean, it's okay. Sorry. I didn't mean to, uh." He paused, gathering his own thoughts. "I was worried, there."

Veetor sat back and shifted awkwardly. Kal stood slowly and stretched his legs, which were a little stiff from holding such a position so long. The other quarian didn't seem to know how to respond to his concern. After a few moments, he, too, rose from his sitting position. So they simply stood there, staring at one another for a few moments, before Veetor, with a sudden jerk, said, "Thank you."

Kal was caught off-guard. Veetor had blurted it out so quickly that the words had slapped him across the face without giving him a moment to digest them.

"I… I didn't even thank you. Thank you, Kal," Veetor added.

Kal'Reegar felt himself smiling a little. Almost every conversation they had involved Veetor thanking him profusely. It was oddly endearing. "You don't have to thank me."

"I want to," Veetor insisted again.

"And I wanted to help you," Kal replied. The two quarians stood there, a strange sort of confrontational air between them. Neither seemed willing to back down from where they stood. There was really no reason for this strange spark, for them to face off in this manner. It wasn't unfriendly. Neither quarian had ever experienced a feeling quite like it.

Something started then.

"Um."

Both turned simultaneously to regard a quarian that had approached. His suit was decked in an unusually muted palette. "You doin' okay, Veetor?"

"Yes, thank you," Veetor replied with quiet, gentle sincerity.

"Good." The stranger regarded Kal. "I'm… sorry to break this up, but we have some important things we need to discuss with you, Reegar."

Kal nodded at him and glanced at Veetor. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yes. I know this is important." Veetor nodded, but Kal saw how he was wringing his hands. "I'll go to the medical ward. I… I'm okay now."

Kal'Reegar nodded and made a mental note to check on his friend. He hated to leave Veetor like this-he didn't think the other was ready to be alone-but the news that last night's visitor had brought could mean that the camp was in very real danger. He was leaving Veetor now for his sake as much as anyone else's. He turned to the quarian and nodded again. "Let's go."

/

The captain and his officers were in what remained of the ship's command station. It was dim, lit only by a few blue-tinged running lights. That meant they had finally got emergency power back up. Kal stood at attention, ignoring the faint tug of fatigue, and looked sharply to the captain, who wasted no time. "We sent some scouts out before dawn, retracing our crewman's tracks. We'll soon know what we're dealing with here. There's a high possibility that our friend was followed to the camp."

"Or sent," another added.

"Yes. It is also possible that he was deliberately released to lead his captors here. He was in a terrible state, but he _did_ actually actively seek us out, rather than stumble upon us. He was using one of our tracking devices." Kal remembered the problems that he, Veetor, and Delor had had using the device while all fully lucid. The fact that this quarian had managed to do it while hanging on the edge of reason was impressive. The captain went on, "So in all likelihood, we have to assume the enemy is on their way to this camp. Our position could be compromised."

"You want to activate the signal." Kal crossed his arms.

"Yes."

Kal lowered his visor and stared at the floor for a few moments. There wasn't much else they could do. What other choice did they have? Leaving camp was out of the question. Even if there weren't wounded in the camp, the vessel was their best hope of being found. Besides, moving that many quarians would be a cakewalk to track. Today was the fifth day since they disappeared. Surely their comrades would be looking for them by now. Activating a signal might bring the cavalry rushing in.

"Looks to me like we don't have much of a damn choice," he admitted.

The captain nodded slowly. "Yes. We'll see what we hear from the scouts. But we'll need to be prepared for an assault." He paused a moment, then added, "You were up all last night with Nara. Grab some sleep while you can."

Kal nodded. He left. There was so much that needed to be done if this camp was going to have a chance against a large-scale assault. His mind was already running through a checklist of things he would need to check and re-check with what remained of the security staff. Even though their situation was dire and their odds of success not as favorable as Kal would have liked, he was grateful that they had a definite plan in motion. It was the sort of plan Kal liked best, as well. It was a simple plan. They sent the signal, dug in, and stove off resistance until rescue. Complex plans tended to have too many opportunities to fall apart. Simple plans could always be improvised upon.

He did not immediately make for his resting place, but rather went to check on Veetor. He was not in the med-bay, and when one of the orderlies saw him looking for the other, she informed him that he'd gone to lie down. Kal was a little amused to be so easily recognized as Veetor's companion as well as glad to know that Veetor was relaxed enough (or at least exhausted enough) to sleep. He would need it just as much as Kal would.

/

It was around what passed for noon on Shasta Trinity when Veetor woke. He didn't remember falling asleep, and was a little surprised and dismayed to see how late it was. He'd only meant to lie down! He sat up. Veetor did not often experience those few groggy moments of bewilderment after waking that most people did. His nervous mind quickly snapped itself up into awareness with no preamble. He didn't have the comfort of a few moments of ignorance before he remembered why he'd been up all night. They'd lost the doctor.

Veetor was startled to find that he was angry.

No, he was _furious. _

The air slid out of his lungs, leaving them half-full and bucking angrily against his ribs. It was a familiar sensation, even if the trigger was not. While Veetor could never really understand the strange actions and reactions of his broken mind, he was at least familiar with its more noticeable tendencies, as well as the way his body handled those tendencies. He did not think himself capable of this sort of emotion. He examined it with a curious detachment even as it clenched his fists and drew his breath harshly across his breathing filter.

He struggled to calm down, but he wasn't very good at it. Veetor had trouble reigning in his fear, and _that _was an old friend. This was an entirely new animal.

Veetor stood, sat, and stood again, frustrated and unsure what to do with himself. His inability to handle this strange state of mind only frustrated him further. He began to pace. His steps were quick and jerky, and comfortingly repetitive. What was wrong with him? Veetor'Nara had never been a violent person. Nobody lived a life wholly devoid of anger, but Veetor would have come close.

He found it impossible to concentrate. Furious energy was buzzing under his skin, actively seeking out release. Veetor didn't know what to do. He managed to get his breathing under control, but he couldn't stop moving. He needed to find something to keep him occupied.

Raised voices from the other side of the camp drew his attention. He stopped and stared at the other quarians milling about. He would help them. That should help him clear this invading fog from his thoughts.

Veetor spent the rest of the afternoon running back and forth across the camp, simply offering his assistance where he could. A group of quarians was having trouble restoring power to certain parts of the ship, so he helped them trace the tangled cords and work out the kinks in the old, damaged hardware. He dithered about the medical bay, doing various odd cleaning tasks and in one instance holding an orderly's tools as she repaired a damaged subsystem in a patient's suit. He tried to help a group of defenders carry rubble, where they were setting up protective barriers around the camp.

That proved beyond his physical capabilities, though his efforts were appreciated. Thoroughly tuckered out, Veetor sat and tried to catch his breath. It was a strangely good feeling to be breathless from honest physical exertion rather than an unbidden wrench from his brain. All that work had burned away that strange, nervous energy that had come with his pure rage. The rage itself, while not entirely satisfied, was dulled by the actual act of helping.

He sat, in awe of the new trick his psyche was capable of. Veetor had been ready to… to do something crazy, like punch someone! The thought was kind of ludicrous to him. After all, he was harmless, wasn't he? Of course he was! Unless someone happened to leave an undefended mech in front of him, that was. He had hurt others before. That had always been out of self-defense, though, or in the defense of his allies. It was fierceness born of fear, not anger.

Fear. That was the key. Veetor had never felt so angry in his life because there had never before been room for anger in him before. Fear had permeated him, filled him, and defined him. Now somehow rage had taken a foothold. The loss of Elan would have made him sad in any instance. Even then, thinking about it, Veetor found it difficult to swallow. He hung his head. She was _gone_…

An angry shrill wail in the back of his head answered, _Because someone took her! Someone who had _no right!

The emotion was pure. It was righteous. Its power scared Veetor even while it was still weak and he still had enough room in his confused mind for fear. He regarded it as if it were some foreign particle lodged in the folds of his brain. It couldn't be a product of his own heart. It reminded him of… of Kal.

Veetor cocked his head. It was the only outward sign of his intense cogitation. He had not moved otherwise. Any observer would just see him standing straight and still in the middle of camp, oblivious to his surroundings, and indeed, he was; Veetor's attention was turned inwards. Was the soldier rubbing off on him? …no. That wasn't it. Veetor's fingers twitched. Kal had been sympathetic, and had been as angry and sad as any other quarian might have been on hearing of the doctor's death. That rage, that pure white-hot shooting line of agony, had been Veetor's after all. But he suspected that Kal had something to do with this.

He turned abruptly and began quartering the camp, searching for the other quarian. Was he feeling anger now because he'd been pushed too far by the death of the good doctor? Was he feeling it as an unconscious response to Kal'Reegar's constant low-grade state of irritation with their current circumstances? It didn't seem as if any of these possibilities held the answer.

He found Kal still sleeping. Someone had actually planned to wake the other up around the same time as Veetor had roused himself, but in the end the marine had been left to sleep. It turned out he was not immediately needed, and they would benefit from him being as fresh for battle as possible. It seemed, undisturbed, Kal simply didn't get up. He was still going at it when Veetor drew up next to him, attacking fatigue just as he would any other enemy.

Veetor watched him. It made him feel that weird anxious-happy-nauseous feeling again. It was a little amusing, too, to see the fierce and brave Kal'Reegar asleep like any other quarian. It diminished his fear.

Was he angry because there was just simply _room_ for it now?

Kal's breathing was slow and his compact, muscular form was relaxed. He somehow didn't look any less capable of violence. He didn't look any less strong asleep. Veetor paused, and leaned forward a little. Kal didn't snore, but he breathed harshly, as if the throat that his body's air had to pass through roughed it up on the way out.

"What did you _do_ to me?" Veetor asked him softly.

Kal didn't answer. Veetor eventually sat nearby, content to let his anger, his confusion, and his fear recede in the wake of that new indefinable emotion. Part of him wanted to wake Kal up and tell him this, but in the end he just decided to let the other sleep. Kal had, after all, been up all night with him. He deserved his rest. Staring at Kal while he slept made him feel uncomfortable, like he was doing something he wasn't supposed to. At the same time, he didn't really want to leave the other right now. So, instead, he stared at the ground and let that odd contentment wash over him.

They were going to fight soon. It might happen tonight, or tomorrow, or in an hour. Everyone was going to be in danger. Veetor felt wary, but unafraid. To be aware of danger and to be crippled by danger were two different things. He had never realized that before that moment. He was changing. It was a small change-a change on the perimeter of the complex mechanism that was Veetor'Nara, but Veetor knew enough about machinery to realize that when one element changed, the repercussions could be substantial.

He looked up. Maybe it was this place. Maybe it was Shasta Trinity that was doing it to him. More likely, though, it was Kal'Reegar. That left Veetor with two options. He could run from the change, balk from it and try to retain all the elements he _knew _to be him, or he could pursue it and see where it took him. He looked at his hands, and at the trees. Shyly, he looked at Kal.

No contest.

**Closing Note: **If you watch the "rally the crowd" version of Tali's trial, you will notice that Veetor is actually standing up straight after Kal delivers his part of the speech. I'm pretty sure it's a programming oversight, but what happens when you overlook a little detail like that?

You get crazy fan-fiction, that's what.


	6. Midnight Special

**Author's Note: **Whoah, this is my longest chapter yet. Because it has a BATTLE in it, and combat scenes are some of my favorite ones to write, yay. This one's kind of herky-jerky all over the place. Hopefully it isn't too hard to follow! Sometimes it's difficult to out yourself in the shoes of the reader, with no knowledge of what's happening and why it's happening. If it turns out to be confusing, let me know. I tried to explain any shifts in time, and tie together any shifts in perspective.

Even though this marks a turning point in the current course of events, this fic is not nearly over. I have a lot in store yet!

This chapter also introduces our villain. I intend to have fun with our villain. Mwahahaha. They're fun to write for. Anyway… yes. Let's get rolling. Thanks again, as always, guys, for your support. YOU GUYS'RE TOPS WITH ME. /stanleypoole

**/Chapter 5 - Midnight Special**

"It looked as if a night of dark intent

Were coming, and not only a night, an age."

-Robert Frost, _Once by the Pacific_

It was the sixth day since an alien vessel had gone down on Shasta Trinity. In a narrow, long room, the overhead lights were off.

The windows that had been built into this room were large enough to let the afternoon shine in, thickening the air into a soup of floating dust and grey light. A human sat in front of a flickering orange viewscreen, watching the tiny motes drift in and out of the glow of his console. He looked bored. He yawned. He glanced over his shoulder at the human sitting behind him, who was facing the opposite direction. That man's attention was directed, also rather boredly, at his own screen.

The room was small, low-ceilinged, and narrow. The door at the far end opened straight to the wilderness outside. Their "office" was really more like a trailer, and the complex it was a part of was more like a sprawled camp. The builders of this place had not tried to fight the rugged wilderness of the moon yet. Instead, they had built around it, lulling it into a false sense of security, waiting for the day when the uneven jagged slopes would be leveled and the occupants would enjoy the finer luxuries of dependable heating and proper air filtration. Until then, they were roughing it.

The man glanced back to his screen, saw a bright yellow blip on the map that had not been there before, and, failing to immediately register it, looked away. Then he did a double-take. "I'll be damned."

His companion didn't turn around. "What?"

"Distress signal. Bet it's our new friends." The first man grinned and reached out, tapping at his console's rectangular keys to pull up a more detailed description of what his computer had found. "Yep. It's a big signal, too. Probably from the crash site. Man, if they got something like a downed _ship _up and running, we must have a whole nest of the buggers."

"Hell, if they got a signal like that up and running _here_," his companion added, "they're a nest of _expensive _buggers."

"Yeah." The two fell into contemplative silence. "Well, might as well let the boss know. I'll do the honors." The first speaker stood and stretched, yawning again. He lazily recorded the coordinates with his Omni-tool. "I can't believe we beat the trackers. I thought for sure they'd find the quarians before _we_ did. Man, you know, one of them offered to put money down on it? Shoulda taken him up on his offer."

His less talkative partner nodded absently. He paused. "You know, the trackers might _have_ found 'em. Half of the shit they sent us here doesn't even work right anyway. Maybe they couldn't send a signal back to us. Maybe _they're_ why the quarians sent up a distress signal."

"Could be." The first man chuckled. "I dunno, though. The boss got a little slap-happy with the one we let go. Maybe he didn't make it."

"Twenty credits says he did."

The first speaker blinked, grinned, and waved to his partner as he strolled out of the room. "You're on."

/

The evening before, Kal had nearly made it to dusk before he awoke, irritated to be allowed to sleep so late. Half of the work of fortifying the camp was already finished, and, he discovered as he inspected the impromptu barricades, finished well. Okay, so maybe they didn't _need _him to hold their hands to make sure they got the job done, but he still didn't like it.

Veetor had left by the time he awoke, so it was up to Kal to look for him. He eventually found Veetor working with the team that was repairing the signal, so the marine had spent the rest of the day further improving the camp's meager defenses. The last thing he wanted to do was sleep once night rolled around, but after a little tossing and turning, got some shuteye.

The morning of the sixth day, the camp was a hive of frenetic activity. The wounded were moved to the most stable section of the ship to protect them from the worst of the battle. Soldiers grouped together, discussing tactics and rallying points throughout the camp. Engineers were exchanging hacking subroutines and putting their combat drones through simulation runs. Then, the scouts sent out the previous dawn returned to camp, and all work stopped. These quarians were carrying a few new weapons with them. That meant two things. Firstly, they'd obviously conquered whatever resistance they'd run into and scavenged their weaponry, and secondly, that they _had_ run into resistance, after all. The captain met them outside, in front of the entire camp, to relay the news to all the quarian refugees simultaneously.

The scouts had come across a three-man tracking squad composed of two humans and one turian. The squad had immediately opened fire on them, and one of the scouting party's number had been wounded. In the end, though, the trackers had paid for it with their lives. The three scouts still seemed to be stunned that they'd managed to take them all down. "But the weapons'll be useful, at least."

Work picked up again, this time with more energy than before. Kal only took a moment to rest when he grabbed a quick meal. It was more by luck than effort that he caught sight of Veetor just as he finished, and the two immediately gravitated towards one another.

"You holdin' up okay?" Kal asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," Veetor assured him. He looked nervous, which could have been due to a lot of factors. The increased activity in the camp could have been a part of it. Perhaps the fact that they were potentially about to be attacked and might, in mere hours, be fighting for their lives was also a contributing factor. "I'm going to help keep the wounded safe. I… I want to help fight, but it doesn't always work when I try to… to…" he trailed off helplessly.

"Wouldn't want you to put your neck on the line, Veetor," Kal assured him. "You can kick ass when you need to. But we're soldiers. _We're_ trained. Nobody's going to blame you for staying out of the fight."

Veetor nodded. The two of them stood there for a moment longer, both feeling the tug of their duties elsewhere, but not quite willing to leave the other just yet. "Be careful." Veetor said quietly.

"I will."

Another pause.

"Kal, before you go-I might not be able to talk to you again before we fight, and, and I wanted to ask you… everything that you've done for me. Well. Not just you, but especially you. But everything that everyone's done for me-Elan, Tali, Shepard… I just want to know why."

The question caught Kal off-guard. He blinked. "Why?"

"Yes. Why have you helped me so much, Kal?"

Kal shifted his weight from foot to foot. Well, that was… an interesting question to ask. Of course Kal would help a fellow quarian. Tali would, too, and the human Commander had a penchant for turning a kind eye to those in need, if her reputation was to be believed. He knew that thought this was _a_ right answer, though, it wasn't _the_ right one. It was true, but it was not the _most_ true. "I'd say it's because you're worth helpin', Veetor."

"Really?" Veetor asked.

There was a tentative hope in his voice that tore straight through Kal'Reegar's then-dormant kinetic barriers, passed unheedingly through the battle-worn ablative coating of his armor, and hit him straight in his unprotected heart. He stood there for a moment, reeling under the assault and unsure what to say. His mouth worked silently behind his helmet. Speechlessness was not a sensation familiar to the indomitable Kal'Reegar. Finally, he said, "Yes." After a thoughtful pause, he added, "_Hell _yes. Don't let anyone tell you different, either."

"O-okay." Veetor remained still, staring at Kal, and for a moment there was a sort of perfect peace between them, despite their surroundings and the threat of imminent danger looming on the horizon. It was very quickly lost as both men began to feel awkward, and with a nod, Veetor said, "I… thanks again, Kal. But I should go now."

"Yeah, me too. I'll see you, Veetor."

Veetor nodded, and they parted ways again. Kal was still a little uneasy from the way his heart had skipped a beat there, but he didn't have time to worry about it. He could fight his inner battles later. It was the outer battles that he needed to concentrate on right now.

/

Afternoon came, and the _Kildeira_ hummed to life. Running lights flickered, piercing points of color that punched through the moon's oppressive grey atmosphere. The hum and throb of the power systems seemed to echo off the trees. Nobody had realized how quiet this place was until they'd filled it with such noise. The inside lights in parts of the ship still intact enough to have them flickered, flickered, and then shed their steady glow on the interior.

It was something of a moment of triumph, but nobody celebrated. They all knew the sobering implications of what they had just done. In the command center, the captain and his team activated and relayed the signal. It rose, searing and insistent, into space, and appeared as a blazing yellow blip on an orange viewscreen miles away. The quarians readied themselves, settled down in position, and waited.

They would turn out to be doing a lot of it. Hours passed, and nothing happened. If their unseen enemy had any kind of monitoring devices on the planet, they had to know that the quarians were there. As the afternoon wore on, the defenders struggled with the hardest part of any battle: waiting for it to begin. Everyone was tense and vigilant.

Evening approached. Still nothing. Throughout the camp, the soldiers shifted uncomfortably and the defenders relayed food packets out to the men and women waiting outside. Night came and began to deepen. Once again, nothing. The wounded were bunkered still securely inside, as well as the few noncombatants. The command center of the downed ship was being used to monitor any sign of rescue. They had been unable to bring up many of the other systems, so they were not able to use any kind of scanning technology to warn them of their enemies' approach.

Kal waited at the easternmost barricade. The past six days of his life had been dominated by a single man's presence. He had fought the hardest battle he'd ever endured with Veetor and brought the other safely through to the end of what might have been the darkest days of the quarian's life. Whatever these unseen adversaries had to offer, it couldn't possibly be a challenge compared to the war he'd just won and this knowledge filled the marine with tense, humming violence.

He would fight like a demon today, especially when he had so much at stake for this battle. He almost felt sorry for whoever was going to be foolish enough to be on the other end of his rifle when the shooting started. _Almost. _

The evening wore on, so that it perched on its axis, balanced precariously on the apex of deepest night and the beginnings of morning. The quarians had expected the standoff to last a while, and began to rotate their shifts. Soldiers came and went, moving quietly and stealthily through the camp. The atmosphere of their makeshift settlement, though strained over half a day's wait, was no less wary for it. Indeed, everyone seemed even more on edge. They had to force themselves not to jump at the soft sounds of nocturnal life. It was possible that they simply weren't going to be attacked yet. Kal suspected that their enemies were fully aware of their position, and were simply waiting. If they were smart, they would let their foes stew a while before they struck. Being alert for so many hours was tiring on the body as well as hard on the nerves. Really, their attackers had almost every advantage that could be asked for.

Kal resolutely held his position. As advantageous as it was, they were risking a lot by waiting _too_ long. The distress signal might have given away the camp's position, but it still served its intended purpose, as well. It was possible that rescue might arrive before this whole situation could dissolve into violence.

On the heels of that thought, a figure strode into the clearing. Immediately the barrels of six assault rifles were pointed at it. It held up its hands. "Please. I was wondering if we could discuss this like civilized sapients?" The voice was a curious double-tone to it, a flanging effect that told Kal it was a turian. The higher, musical quality of the voice told him that it belonged to a female. The calmness in her voice told Kal that she was not at all afraid to be on the receiving end of so much firepower. This could either be because she didn't know what sort of danger she was in, or simply that she was not afraid, or it could be a bluff. All of these analyses ran through his mind in a single fishtail-flicker of thought. Kal exhaled slowly and held his gun steady.

"We're listening." The captain's second-in-command had been stationed near the south side of camp. Kal hadn't heard him move closer to his eastern position, but he was now only about twelve feet from the soldier. Kal was quietly impressed.

"Why are you on our moon?" the unnamed turian asked.

"First of all, this moon is officially listed as uninhabited, so if you have some kind of authority here, it is not recognized by any government _we_ know of. Second of all," the quarian continued in his clipped, accented voice, "even if it is, we have no interest in it. We just want to leave."

"What a coincidence. We want you _off." _

Kal could just see the gleam of the gas giant's blue reflection in his comrade's helmet as the second-in-command shook his head. "That's what _we_ want. Are you telling us you plan to let us leave, no harm, no foul?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Well, for one, you kidnapped our people," the second-in-command snapped back, "And _killed _two of them!"

The turian cocked her head. Kal could just barely make out her features in the darkness; she was on the lighter-skinned side, and the shape of her face was broken up by the darker markings of her tattoos. She was an impressive specimen of her species, which were already known to be larger than quarians. This turian was certainly taller than any of the defenders of the camp. For a moment, she was silent.

"Guess that puts a stop to your little ruse, doesn't it?" the second-in-command barked bitterly.

The turian waited a little bit longer to reply. "It would appear that we don't have anything left to say to one another," she agreed in an incongruously friendly tone of voice, shrugging. She began to turn, apparently satisfied by her endeavor, when the second-in-command called out again.

"Wait! We just… why are you doing this? We have no quarrel with you. We didn't even mean to _be_ here. Why would you attack us? What do you have to gain? We only want to leave. You can see we're willing to fight you off if we have to. _Surely_ whatever you want is not worth a confrontation like this."

She turned to face him fully. Turians did not smile like a human or a quarian would, but there were subtle signs of mirth that the skilled could track, such as the way their mandibles flared or the narrowing of their eyes. "Did you _really_ just ask me that?" Her tone had gone from conversational to coldly amused in an instant. "First of all, you seriously overestimate your ability to fight us. You're not nearly as much of a threat as you think you are-trust me. Second…" She chuckled lowly. "You're in the Terminus systems now, little quarian. Everything is worth taking from someone else. Quarian slaves happen to pretty popular these days."

She glanced over the camp. "Especially the female ones."

Kal felt his fingers tightening on his rifle. Anger bubbled in his stomach and rose to tighten his chest. He could see his comrades seizing up in similar muted expressions of rage. He tried to calm down. Surely she'd expected this sort of reaction. What was she getting at? Showing herself like this was a bad tactical move for _anyone_. Kal began to suspect she was bluffing. Either that, or she was up to something else...

She turned her back, which, even for bluffing, was just plain stupid in Kal's opinion. "It's getting late. We'll give you another few hours to decide to surrender. We will see to it that your wounded are nursed back to health if you stand down." She had started to walk back towards the enveloping dark of the woodlands.

There was a pause, and Kal heard an angry female voice shout somewhere at the back of the camp, in explicit detail, just where their turian guest could shove her proposal. He grinned despite himself.

The turian outright laughed. "Very well." She took a few more steps, and the quarians tensed themselves. She paused after a moment, and then said, so softly that only the soldiers closest to her could hear, "Really?"

She half-turned. "_Really? _You quarians-you're _not_ going to shoot me in the back?" She shook her head. "Wasted opportunity."

It was a few moments after what passed for midnight on the little moon when she said this. There was a sudden bright flash, and on the seventh day since crashing to the surface of Shasta Trinity, a flash of burning brilliance screamed somewhere out of the sky and streaked down, blowing up half of what remained of the grounded _Kildeira._

"Quarians are too easy." The turian's shields were immediately assailed by projectiles, but in another instant she was already gone, and several more obviously armed hostiles were taking her place. While she had been negotiating, her men had been taking their positions, to obviously devastating effect. Kal glanced once back at their refuge in horror. The wounded had been in there. The non-combatants had been in there. _Veetor _had been in there. He didn't know if their signal was still operational, or if anyone had survived the blast. He didn't even know what manner of weapon had even _caused_ the explosion yet.

He didn't have time to worry, because the advancing line of armed enemies was demanding his current attention, and if there were any lives left in that burning husk of a ship, it was up to him to defend them. He leaned out of cover, squeezed the trigger, and got to work.

/

Veetor had been thrown aside when the explosion rocked the ship, and now stared in horror at the flames billowing into the corridor and out of the ragged hole in the ship's side. It was all chaos now, all smoke and unbearable heat. His comrades were struggling to move the wounded, scattering in all directions like a nest of upturned ants. He saw a small male quarian struggling to drag away another whose leg was in a cast, and Veetor wordlessly moved to help.

Outside, the air sizzled with gunfire. There were shouts and bangs and flashes of light too bright to look at. Confusion had permeated the sanctity of the ship and surrounded it in a cloud of violence. Everywhere he turned, there was some new, horrible calamity to confront. He struggled to hold on, not to let himself retreat away from it, because he had enough presence of mind to know that he would probably die if he did that. Fear kept him lucid. He failed to appreciate the irony of it.

Some of their comrades had been killed in the blast. Veetor froze when he saw their twisted bodies, and he shivered, turning away to help move the wounded to a more secure location. When he leaned down over the quarian with the broken leg, he recognized the older fellow he'd helped days earlier. He saw that his facemask was cracked. "Oh, _no."_

Another explosion knocked him off his feet, and he tumbled over the ground. Scrambling up, he looked back to see more of the ship had been reduced to molten slag. Someone must be firing some kind of… of rocket launcher or something. They were taking away their last place to hide! Veetor felt his thoughts tightening and tunneling, but he resisted. These people needed him. "We have to move him!" he shouted at the smaller quarian that had been helping him pull his charge.

But the smaller quarian was dead. He had been caught in the blast, and now lay against the side of the ship with his neck twisted at an awkward-looking angle. Veetor quailed in fear. There was no-one here to help him. There was no-one here to help the old man! With a strength born of desperation, he grabbed the unconscious quarian and began to drag him off.

/

It wasn't a battle. It was a disaster.

The ground troops were unprepared for the ferocity of the defenders, that much was true. Kal notched up three kills before the soldiers finally got wary of him. Someone managed to stick a grenade on the first barricade, and Kal and his comrades barely had time to scramble back to the next bit of cover before it blew, sending lethal shards of shrapnel singing past their heads. Then it became a tense game of "I shoot, you shoot" while the hostiles used what was left of the cover they had just destroyed.

A flash of lurid orange light caught Kal'Reegar's eye. He saw a streak of smoke, and a blossom of fire. The ship had been hit for a second time. They had someone in the trees. That someone had a grenade launcher. Shit. They were destroying the heart of the camp, the signal, and the best cover the quarians had to fall back on. His heart sank when he saw the destruction caused by the second blow.

No way anyone caught in that would have survived it.

A wave of rage and sorrow hit him hard, and he turned his attention to the trees. They had to take that one down as soon as they could. "I'm going to try and pick off their man in the trees," he shouted to the quarian next to him. "Moving north. Cover me!"

He didn't wait for a response, but instead dove out of cover and made for the next barricade at a flat run. The configuration of his legs allowed him to move closer to the ground than was comfortable for a human, batarian, or turian, and within moments he was back in cover without so much as a stutter from his shields. Before he could even slow down, he noticed that the quarians that had backed up here were dead. A humanoid soldier in full armor was crouching by them. He saw Kal and raised his weapon.

Without breaking his stride, Kal leapt at the man and caught him in his midriff. He knocked him off-balance and used the momentum of his sprint to take his adversary out. They tumbled together for a moment. In that single instant, Kal realized that the man's shields hadn't yet regenerated from his assault on the quarians he'd just killed.

Kal hit him against the side of the helmet with his rifle. The man grunted and heaved Kal off of him, using his superior bulk to force Kal away. It was an instinctive move, but the wrong one. The new distance gave Kal enough room to aim and shoot, which he did furiously. The soldier was thrown jerkily back in a spray of red mist, and finally went still. Kal hurriedly moved back to the shelter of the barricade, popping a thermal clip as he did. He quickly searched the dead soldier for additional ammo.

He found a sniper rifle folded against the man's back.

_Keelah, I couldn't really be this lucky. _He pulled it free, triggered its release, and watched as it unfolded neatly before him, sturdy and ready for use. Kal eyed it appreciatively. _I guess I am._

/

The noncombatants had moved the wounded-whose ranks had now swollen thanks to the assault-to the side of the ship facing away from their unseen grenade-launching assailant. It was a temporary solution, and they all knew it. Veetor hurriedly went back to the burning ship to search for more, and found nothing but the dead, and was soon forced back outside by the heat. He stared for a moment at the burning wreckage, an oddly unconcerned and thoughtful figure in the middle of the crouching, snarling mass of fighters scattered all around him. He studied the hole torn into the side of the ship, still glowing with heat.

His focus tightened.

He saw the impact on the ground, the angles at which the dirt and floor had been disrupted and scattered. His mind made a few quick calculations and he turned to the trees. He brought up his hand, his Omni-tool glowing against his arm, and tapped rapidly on it as he turned his gaze back and forth between it and the wreckage. It was sheer luck that kept him from getting hit as he stood by the flames. Finally, he pulled his gaze away and upward. Someone was out there. Now he knew where they were. Possibly, they knew where he was, too. He quickly cast left and right, saw the telltale glowing sphere of a combat drone, and hurriedly made his way towards the engineer he saw commanding it.

"There's a man in the trees with a rocket launcher!" He shouted.

The engineer looked back incredulously. "I _noticed!" _he squalled back.

"I have his coordinates. Overheat his weapon!"

The engineer looked down between their glowing Omni-tools, still a little startled by the sudden appearance of the quarian he didn't recognize. "You sure this is where he is?"

"Yes! I studied the wreckage! He'll fire again!"

There was no authority Veetor's voice, but there was conviction. The engineer looked to the trees. The position that Veetor had given him might very well be out of range, but if he had half a change to sabotage the bastard with the rocket launcher, he would take it. He nodded, tapped in the coordinates, and waved his arm. There was a tell-tale flash and plume of smoke. "I'll be damned! Got him for now!"

Gunfire forced them to take cover together. Veetor realized that, in his haste, he had very stupidly ran into the middle of battle. He still had Kal's pistol. He took it from his belt and held it uncertainly as the engineer returned his attention to the fight and cheered his combat drone on.

/

Kal had moved closer to the general area he'd seen their airborne assailant fire from. He wasn't going to be able to take him out without some covering fire at _least_. He crossed two more barricades before he found any other quarians. The sight was disheartening. The attackers were pushing them towards the center of camp, where they would be forced to die or surrender.

Kal readied the sniper rifle and, paired with a soldier that agreed to be his spotter, crouched and waited. They didn't have to wait long.

"There!" Rather than give him a direction or degrees, the spotter simply grabbed the barrel of the rifle and pointed it towards the target. The eyepiece banged against Kal's faceplate, but he saw a flash of light and a burst of smoke through the scope. He grinned to himself. Someone had just sabotaged their grenade launcher-wielding friend. He silently thanked them.

A single well-placed shot knocked the unfortunate batarian clear out of the trees. Kal heard the satisfying whump of his body hit the ground even from that distance, and over the gunfire. He would have liked to have tried to recover the launcher, but they'd have to leave cover to do it. It would be suicide.

He pulled the sniper rifle away and noticed something glowing and red moving swiftly towards the gathered soldiers from the trees. A FENRIS mech!

It wasn't the only one, either. Several more red lights were swarming across the clearing, moving low and swift, their ghostly white armor reflecting the wan starlight back. "Looks like they just sent in the second wave. Shit," Kal switched his assault rifle out for his shotgun and waited for them to come within range.

The FENRIS wave turned out to be part of a simultaneous assault coordinated on several fronts. Their foes had limited manpower, and knew that they were dealing with tech specialists, so they had sent in their best soldiers first to wipe out resistance and pick off any engineers they spotted. The quarians would not be as prepared to deal with their mechanized forces that way. The FENRIS broke through on the south side, forcing the quarians to fall back and rally their forces to this new assault.

Kal'Reegar's team had little trouble dispatching the three that rushed up. One was expertly shot at range. The other two were dealt with by Kal's shotgun and another quarian's assault rifle. The explosion of the last one's passing was impressive indeed. "Time to fall back. They need us on the south side."

As the soldiers carefully made their way, they ran into LOKI forces already moving in. One or two of them were able to be hacked, but against the sheer number of the remaining mechs, it was hopeless. The fighters were split up and disorganized. The wounded were compromised. The center of the camp was in flames. Kal just bore down and fought harder.

Another explosion rocked the sad remains of the _Kildeira_ and nearly knocked Kal off his feet. He'd seen that rocket-propelled projectile enough to know what it belonged to. He turned and saw the slowly-advancing shape of a YMIR mech, advancing with a pack of lethal mechanical dogs at in its wake.

_/_

Veetor's engineer had been attacked by one of the FENRIS mechs. The thing had skidded around a corner, startling both quarians and knocking the engineer to the ground before either could react. A single jolt, and its stunner had rendered the man helpless. His combat drone angrily buzzed over, shocking the FENRIS and drawing its attention. Without thinking, Veetor shot at the mech.

He missed. The FENRIS turned its broad flat head towards him. The combat drone zapped it again, and it spun to face it instead, lunging. Upon impact, the drone's outlined flickered, died, and then it exploded, knocking the mech of its feet. Veetor fired again, and this time hit it twice in quick succession, which caused _another_ explosion. He stared incredulously at the blackened pile of debris. He'd done it!

His engineer friend seemed down for the count, though. He grabbed the other under the arms and began to drag him away when their abused ship was assaulted for a third time. He crouched back down under the wave of heat, balking in horror, and peeked out from behind his cover. Oh. A YMIR mech. That was great.

It was distressingly close, too.

Veetor immediately crouched down and pulled his Omni-tool online. It was no small feat for it to wirelessly seek out the mech, but he paused before he tried to hack it. It would be in the camp soon. It could be a danger to his own people even if he _did_ hack it. No. It had to be stopped and destroyed here. He typed furiously at his Omni-tool with two fingers, trying to infiltrate its system.

It had newly-installed advanced security protocols_. I did that, _he thought to himself as his mind rapidly processed and dissected the lines of code flashing in front of him. _They did that because of me. _The thought instilled him with a bit of confidence. This mech had been defended against Veetor. It was _his. _

He peeked out again and saw that it had an advance guard of FENRIS mechs. Immediately an idea came to him, and Veetor got to work. He broke from cover, side-stepping quickly while he tapped at his Omni-tool. He'd only meant to draw attention away from the unconscious engineer, but to his horror, the YMIR had already raised its weapon, and did not hesitate to fire. He dove for cover, ducking down and frantically typing. There.

A single FENRIS mech turned and flung itself at the YMIR, nearly causing the larger machine to lose its footing. It was quickly dealt with. It exploded.

The FENRIS mechs were easier to hack, and they could be used like four-legged guided missiles. Veetor needed to switch positions again, because the YMIR was getting a little too close for his liking. To his surprise, it suddenly turned as someone opened fire on it from across the camp. Veetor remembered with a start that he wasn't alone. There were other quarians here. They could definitely do this if they worked together. He quickly shuffled to a proper barricade, typing as he went, and sent another FENRIS snapping at the heels of the YMIR.

Veetor felt the last vestiges of his fear draining, and he surrendered to the straining flex of his mind. He let it tunnel itself, let that cold hand grip his thoughts. He was all around the YMIR. He was in and out of cover, his movements quick and precise, his hacking lethally fast. He did not look like a soldier as he distracted and attacked, wreaking his havoc from the glowing orange gauntlet on his hand. He looked like an artist.

One of the attackers' bodies had ended up propped awkwardly against the ruined rubble of one of the barricades. He had a recording device built into his helmet, and it logged this prolonged struggle with the YMIR from the beginning to the end. Later, it would be recovered and someone would watch it. Specifically, someone would watch Veetor. For now it was ignored. It was just a corpse on the battlefield.

Another FENRIS exploded. The mech's deep synthesized rumble began to stutter.

/

Kal moved with the soldiers towards this new threat immediately. They didn't have time to study it closely as they moved, only watching for obvious changes in direction or intent, and as such Kal was quite surprised when he saw that it was opening fire on one of the FENRIS. Good for their engineers!

At about that time he heard shouting over the radio. "We have lost all engineers in this sector. Repeat, all engineers in this sector are gone. There's some… some quarian down there with a pistol and an Omni-tool taking care of the mech on the northwest side of the camp. Any remaining engineers, get down there and help him! Soldiers, cover him! Keelah, who _is _this guy?"

Kal covered one of his comrades while she used her Omni-tool to overload the shields of the beleaguered mech. The machine was being distracted by the assault, being attacked on so many fronts that it barely had time to turn before it was forced to pivot again. The quarians' luck didn't hold out forever, though-soon the LOKI security mechs moved in, and they had to be dealt with. They were backed by the remaining soldiers.

"Shit. Should we move to another position?" One of the team asked Kal.

Kal'Reegar shook his head. "We stay here and cover their asses while they deal with the YMIR! Won't take us long to deal with these bastards."

His team nodded, and then dug in, tearing into this new assault force. The fighting had tightened to two focal points-here, at the feet of the mech, and back to the south side of the camp, where the last defenders were holding off enemy forces from their wounded. During a break in the fire, when the quarians had downed the last LOKI, Kal glanced back to the YMIR, which was being attacked by yet another FENRIS. A lean figure darted away from cover and began to tug at a quarian on the ground.

Kal did a double-take. Wait.

It was _Veetor! _

/

The last FENRIS had finally been dispatched against the YMIR, which was beginning to show damage for all its trouble. Veetor had done what he could, but he needed to get himself and his engineer out of here while he could. He wasn't a fighter, and he knew it. As Kal was realizing the identity of the YMIR's tormenter, Veetor was struggling to move his comrade.

Unfortunately, the YMIR had spotted this movement, and as he started to pull the groggy and barely-conscious engineer to his feet, it fired.

The blast of the rocket sent them both sprawling. The barricade exploded and went spinning in all directions. The YMIR staggered back, stunned by the shrapnel flung back at it. Veetor shook his head and grabbed the engineer, stumbling to his feet. He tugged. The YMIR raised its right arm. The engineer began to stumble. "Whoah, what-"

The YMIR opened fire. The engineer's shields stuttered, but held. Veetor's shields had been depleted by his earlier dance with the team of FENRIS mechs, and did not hold. His knees buckled. He screamed.

The engineer, galvanized either by the humming of his shields or the cry of his kinsman, grabbed Veetor and tackled him into cover. The YMIR advanced on them both.

/

Kal had been readying his sniper rifle. It had only been mere seconds since he recognized Veetor. He aimed for the YMIR'S head. Its shields were down, and its armor was depleted. A single shot was all he needed. He heard a hoarse cry. He recognized it. He felt a cold weight, like a stone, drop in his chest.

But he was a soldier, and he did not pull his helmet away from the eyepiece. He steadied his arm, watching the flashes of the YMIR's gunfire reflected on the mech's dented armor.

The mech slowly closed the distance between the two quarians crouched in cover. A shot was fired. When the sound faded, the mech had no head. It stumbled, stuttered, and fell. Kal pulled his face away from the scope to see the engineer scrambling towards them, dragging Veetor with him. They both hit the dirt when the YMIR exploded.

Kal snapped his sniper rifle to his back, unfolded his assault rifle, and leaped out of cover, running towards them. He wasn't thinking. There was no room in his mind for thought. There was only anger. He skidded to a stop by them and helped the engineer bring Veetor to cover. There was blood on his front, Kal realized with horror.

"Keelah, Veetor, you trying to make me look bad? Taking down two YMIRs by yourself?" Kal asked as they set the quarian down. Immediately his Omni-tool flashed, dispersing medi-gel to his wounded friend.

Veetor laughed softly. "Not by myself." He seemed to be having trouble catching his breath. "Hi, Kal."

Kal'Reegar swallowed with difficulty. "Hi, Veetor."

They were finished. These people weren't going to stop, and there was no way they would last until morning, not with their sadly-depleted numbers. He looked to the engineer, who hefted his shotgun purposefully. He looked to his comrades, who nodded tersely at him. He looked to Veetor who, to his surprise, seemed to have picked up on the mood and was gamely holding Kal's pistol. The sight tore further at the soldier's inadequately-protected heart.

"Looks like this is it. Let's give 'em all we got," Kal said.

As it turned out, such was unnecessary.

The sky ripped open, apart, flooding the ground with blinding white light. Everyone turned away from it, or crouched, stunned, under the force of the glare. The quarians' visors immediately darkened to deal with the sudden brightness, and a few of them even looked up.

A ship was slowly descending over the camp. There was a high-pitched whirr, and then the sharp retort of gunfire. Dirt and detritus rose in a line at the perimeter in the camp. LOKI mechs were shattered. Slavers were shattered-though their resulting explosions were less flashy and a lot wetter. The ship lowered further. It was old, its hull patched over in places, overlaid with many flat layers of metal in an oddly feather-like design. Once, it had been turian.

"This is the scout ship _Yagangar_ of the Migrant Fleet." A female voice boomed over an exterior-mounted amplifier. There was a pause while the crew inside apparently assessed the situation. "Woah." An eloquent quarian curse preceded the ship opening fire on the treeline again. The air rattled with bullets, sending a clear and eloquent message to the remaining hostiles gathered around the camp.

This siege was over.


	7. Damaged Goods

Author's Note: I have been found out! This fic is actually an expanded and altered version of a short fic I wrote for a Mass Effect meme (that I will not link here). This is actually he point in the story where things will change from the original fic, for those of you who've read it.

Which means that much more drama and gun fighting lay ahead for our heroes. Also, we get a little more villain action in this chapter. Writing for villains is always such fun!

Be warned, this chapter is also where it starts to get pretty mushy. Anyway… LET'S GO.

**/Chapter 6 - Damaged Goods**

"Two people must come upon such an understanding

Together of course but separately."

-David St. John, _Wavelength_

The extraction was quick, but thorough. Of all the known sentient races in the galaxy, quarians were perhaps the best at leaving places in a hurry. The crew of the _Yagangar_ spilled from both sides of the ship, gathering the living, the wounded, and checking for the IDs of as many of the dead as they could. They were soon ushered back inside, however, because it seemed that their enemies had their own reinforcements arriving. The ship lingered only long enough to double-check to make sure there were no more living quarian biological signatures in the camp, and then fled.

Kal'Reegar was separated from Veetor in the crowd, and was forced by the returning crew towards the fore of the ship. He sat, his spine curved and every muscle tense, while the ship clawed its way roughly skyward.

"They have two ships inbound! Get us out of here, now!" Kal looked for the source of the voice, but the ship was so packed and the crowd was shifting so wildly that he couldn't pinpoint it. He glanced over his shoulder at the window display, watching the surface of Shasta Trinity falling away below him. He saw the proud trees change into tufted matchsticks before he was forced to move again. By the time he passed another window, the moon itself had receded into a dirty blemish against the smooth, monolithic curve of the gas giant behind it. It was a strange, lonely place, and Kal was sure he'd never see it again.

He was wrong, of course.

As soon as they were out of range with no signs of pursuit, he stood and pushed his way through the crowd until he found Veetor. The other quarian had been shuttled off to the medical bay, which was overflowing with wounded. Veetor's injuries had been severe enough to get him inside, but Kal was not permitted to follow the already jam-packed facility. He caught glimpses of the other, already shaking from blood loss and possibly fever, before he was gently but firmly forced outside.

He paced angrily in the corridor outside until he was obliged to take a seat by the gathering crowds. The quarian he chose to sit next to looked to him, and after a moment, Kal recognized him as the engineer that Veetor had been dragging along when he'd been shot. The engineer murmured quietly, "He saved my life."

For a moment, Kal didn't respond. Then he said, "That makes two." When the engineer cocked his head, Kal clarified, "Saved me, too."

Neither kept track of the time as they waited, but it seemed like hours before a nurse finally poked her head out and, tracking down Kal'Reegar, informed him of the other's condition. "He's going to be sick, of course, but we got to him quickly enough. We're all pretty sure he's going to be fine."

Kal nodded, feeling the air leave him in a sudden rush. "Good." He said simply. He didn't know what else to say, and even though the relief that swept through him was absolutely crushing, he'd never been the type of person to talk too much about that sort of thing.

The engineer also looked immensely relieved, though he was more vocal about it. "Oh, Keelah. Thank goodness." He hung his head. "If something had happened to him…"

"He's tougher than you think," Kal replied gruffly, "Surprised me more'n once." The engineer nodded quietly, but didn't say anything more. Kal leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The release of that last bit of tension had left him feeling drained. Every muscle was like a rubber band that had been pushed beyond its limit, and he knew that he would have an entirely new battle to fight as soon as they arrived. There were reports to be made. There was information to exchange. There was (Kal grimaced) _paperwork._ With a practice born of years on the battlefield, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep right there outside the makeshift hospital.

/

She watched the departing shape of the _Yagangar_ from the ground, blinking calmly as it vanished against the bulk of the gas giant in the sky. The remains of her troops were already sifting through the camp. In the end, the numbers weren't too bad.

In the attack on the camp, they'd lost a total of eight men. They'd taken out far more quarians. She was honestly surprised that the survivors hadn't surrendered the moment she sent in the FENRIS, but it looked as if they'd been determined to hold out till the end. Their gamble paid off. In the end, the mechs had suffered the greatest casualties, but they _were_ made to be disposable.

"It's a good thing they weren't ours," she murmured as she turned and strode back to her personal transport vehicle. The low-slung, narrow hovercraft was as rugged and ugly as the bleak surrounding landscape. She despised the climate here. After all, all turians hated the cold, but the strategic advantage of this little moon made it worth the hassle. Sometimes she thought maybe she was growing fond of it, the way one might grow attached to a troublesome pet.

Speaking of troublesome pets... "Ma'am?" Her second-in-command was a human who said his name was Smith.

His commander doubted this, but she didn't make a big deal out of it. In the sort of business they were in, using pseudonyms was a common practice. She had no idea why he had chosen such an obvious one among humans. "The mechs. I might have been irritated if those were an investment, but…" she shrugged. The gesture was common enough among all the races that she'd picked it up by now. She liked it. Brisk, elegant, businesslike. After a moment, she added, "I didn't really expect them to take out the YMIR."

"Didn't one of them do it before?" Smith asked, puzzled. He nearly ran into his commander as she stopped. Turning, she stared blankly at him for a few moments. "Uh, sorry ma'am."

"No. You're right. But still." She turned and began to walk again. She could tell her admission did nothing to soothe her human comrade. Good. Her men needed to be kept on their toes. She didn't speak again until she was inside the vehicle with her human (she always liked to think of her inferiors that way, as belonging to her) seated beside her. "Certainly has been an interesting few days, hasn't it?"

Smith looked sideways to regard his employer. She was not remarkable by turian standards; her features were a little more curved and delicate than a male's, but to the human, she didn't seem particularly feminine. Her plates and skin ranged from a medium to light gray, and the tattoos that slithered over her facial scales were dark, dark red. By contrast, she had eyes that were flat and light blue. They reminded him of a husky's eyes: inhuman, unreadable. "Yeah," he replied noncommittally. He was, under normal circumstances, a concise and somewhat fastidious man, but it had been a rough night, and a fitting end to a week of interesting activity.

Shasta Trinity happened to be located between two minor shipping lanes. Merchants sometimes passed by here, but more often, pirates did, looking for the merchants. It was out-of-the-way enough so that sometimes vessels traveling through were low on resources. An honest merchant might have tried to set up a fueling station nearby. A pirate would consider using it as an ambush site for merchants. Naturally, _she_ had shunned both of these ideas.

Instead, she'd set up a small base on Shasta Trinity and waited in ambush for the pirates. They were much more profitable targets. After all, pirate vessels were more often than not stuffed with stolen goods, many of it technology that was not-quite-legal, but wholly useful. Stolen goods could be hard to track when wrenched so forcibly off the grid, which was another advantage of pirating the pirates; the passengers themselves were not to be discounted as a source for profit. Rivals would often happily pay to have their nemesis delivered, helpless, into their waiting clutches. Really, the way those folks were running business was deplorable. They made vendettas with one another and unnecessary connections to other sects. They cared too much about honor (at least they did when it was insulted) and let their emotions (albeit their baser ones) control their actions. They didn't have the mind for business.

Still, one person's folly was another's gain. _The problem with most businesses, _she mused, _is that they fail to utilize every available resource. _Sentients were a resource, to be bought and sold like any other. That sort of opportunism was partially responsible for their current situation.

They had been tracking a pirate vessel moving in-system when, out of nowhere, the quarians had come chugging along. They had monitored the events from the ground, watching in amusement as the pirate vessel and the _Kildeira_ had duked it out. The quarians' vessel had crashed, in the end, but it had softened the pirates up enough to make capturing their ship a cakewalk. Then they'd used those very resources to try and subdue the quarian resistance, once they'd found them. It might have been a bit of a cut in future profits, but half of all business was a gamble. If they'd been able to force those quarians to surrender, they would have been looking at a truly worthwhile paycheck.

With that in mind, she'd called in a few reinforcements. She knew that it would take them a while to arrive, so she'd waited as long as she thought was necessary, and then made her move on the quarians. Attacking too soon would have been a further drain on resources. Waiting too long would have simply allowed them to make a clean escape. In the end, she had taken the most logical course of action and waited to see how chance played out. It turned out that she'd been dealt a straight, and the quarians had been sitting pretty on straight _flush._

Oh, well. Quarians were worth almost as much dead as they were alive, if you knew where to look, and they'd certainly left enough corpses behind. It wasn't as if they'd come out of it wholly empty-handed, either. "That reminds me," she said suddenly and without explanation, startling her human companion, "The quarians we picked up from the pods. Is that older female still acting up?" They had all been unruly, but one in particular had been troublesome.

This woman was quiet, but that very quietness was what made her dangerous. All of their captives were understandably upset and confused, but this female was remarkably grounded, and her sense of calm was becoming a source of strength for the others. She was also doing what she could to promote it, and she seemed to understand how to best soothe her fellow captives. She was intelligent, knowledgeable, and good with people. Whatever she had once been, she was quickly becoming a nuisance. Many slavers had fallen by underestimating their cargo and its ability to strike back. The turian was determined not to let that happen to her. Such a thing would be downright embarrassing.

"One of the guards said she was making everyone sleep before her. And then she was staring at him. Made him nervous." Smith shrugged. "But overall, nothing to worry about."

"Hmm."

"She's just one quarian."

"Smith, earlier you were lecturing me about underestimating my foes. Please do not make me do the same to you." She glanced to him, blinking slowly.

He stared back for a moment before he had to look away. "I wasn't lecturing, ma'am, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay, Smith," she replied, knowing full well he wouldn't take her words at face value. "At any rate, let's separate her. See if we can get her sold first. She might be getting on in her years, but surely someone'll want her for something, even if she is inclined to be… troublesome merchandise." She leaned back against the seat and stared silently ahead. She didn't say anything else during the entire trip home.

She could see Smith fidgeting nervously out of the corner of her eye. Really, humans were so paranoid. If she was upset with him, she would tell him. Surely he had seen her in action enough times to know that? Oh, well. Some things about aliens she supposed she'd never understand.

/

The shipwrecked quarians had spent a week on Shasta Trinity, and it had felt like a month. The week they spent back among their kind passed in a hectic, shuffling instant. Kal'Reegar leaped from ship to ship, telling his story more times than he could count on each one. There was a lot of work to do as far as figuring out who their new hostile neighbors were. Aside from that, they also had to make a list of the dead and the missing. That was the most unpleasant part of the whole affair.

Veetor had been moved to a hospital ship with the other wounded. Kal was not initially able to see him, but checked with his nurses regularly via ship-to-ship communications. The first two days were nerve-wracking. Veetor had come down with a high fever, and this, coupled with his injuries and the hardship they'd suffered on Shasta Trinity, made for one very sick quarian. He had battled it back with admirable determination, though, and by the third day his fever had broken. Kal had been down longer with his own illness, he recalled, but he hadn't gotten help nearly as quickly as his friend.

As soon as he got word that Veetor seemed well, and he was simply sleeping off the effects of the illness, Kal'Reegar had to put his mind to the tasks before him. They didn't want to move Veetor for a while, so it wasn't as if he was going anywhere. Kal felt odd as he helped organize what little information they had. He expected the mundane nature of his work ("mundane" being a relative term as far as a race that dwelt on fleets of ships in space were concerned) to be a little mind-numbing after the more or less constant stress he endured back on the moon, but he felt like a ship running with half of its propulsion systems offline. He was tired. He was distracted.

Kal'Reegar figured he just needed rest, but he didn't have time for it. He simply bore down and took care of his duties until his superiors seemed satisfied enough with his reports to give him a moment's reprieve.

He made his way back to his new temporary quarters, kicked open his untidily-bundled bedroll and collapsed. He stared dully at the ceiling. Usually, after a battle, there was a sense of meaningful exhaustion, but this lingering fatigue was new. It had seeped into the fibers of his muscles, into his brain, and there it bubbled sullenly. He felt like only half of him had left Shasta Trinity. He felt like he'd forgotten something.

Veetor. Alone on a strange ship.

Fifteen minutes later Kal was on a small courier shuttle heading for the hospital vessel.

/

He was unprepared for the scene that awaited him.

Veetor was sitting up, fully awake, in his bed. There were still a few hoses and tubes hooked up to his suit at various places. The suit itself had been changed, of course, but the differences were minor-the fabric accents had been changed, the damaged components replaced, and there was a new dark purple tint to his helmet's visor. Veetor himself seemed fine. Kal watched him from the doorway. The nervous twitches and sudden movements that comprised the other's body language seemed spaced-out and subdued. There were three other people in his room, and Veetor was listening to a story.

Kal recognized Delor standing to the left of the bed, and the engineer whose name he'd never caught standing on the other side. It took him a moment to recognize the third quarian, who was standing beside Delor, but after glancing to the reinforced boot attached to this quarian's leg, he realized it was the older fellow he had seen Veetor tending to back at the camp.

The engineer was speaking. "And so I wake up and there's this freaking YMIR mech looming over us-"

"Sounds familiar," Delor interrupted amusedly.

"So next thing I know it's spitting bullets everywhere, and then we hit the ground. And the mech explodes." The engineer finished, apparently satisfied with his descriptive skills. Delor's shoulders shook lightly in laughter, and the older quarian cocked his head. "Well, we got away before the mech exploded, obviously. We were sort of dragging each other then."

"That's the second one of those things in a week you helped take out. You're going to get a reputation, Veetor," Delor crossed her arms.

Veetor shook his head, "Well, don't forget, it was Kal who-" At that moment Veetor glanced to the doorway, did a double-take, and delightedly exclaimed, "Kal!"

Before, it had simply been a tone in Veetor's voice that had reached into Kal's chest and wrenched it sideways. Now it was the tone and the fact that the twitchy quarian was saying his name with such joy. Rather than think about the implications of this, Kal just approached. Each step towards Veetor shed the grey shroud of weariness that had plagued him, layer by layer, the closer he got. Kal felt himself finally, _finally_ relaxing at the sight of his friend, who was alive, well, and happy to see him. "Thought I'd check up on you."

Delor quickly told Kal of Veetor's progress. Kal had fallen out of touch two days ago. Veetor had since then fallen ill with a minor flare-up, and Kal was embarrassed to realize he hadn't even known. "We've been keeping him company when we can. But as for now…" She waved. "I have to leave. Break's over! Good to see you again, Veetor," she said, and left. The engineer did so, as well, cheerfully promising to visit again before he vanished. It was only after he'd gone that Kal remember he'd neglected to ask him his name. Oh, well. He'd probably get another chance.

The older quarian nodded to him. "You're Kal'Reegar, then? I heard about you, son, but I never got to see you. Good to have fresh young soldiers around. Enthusiasm and all. Good work back on the moon, too. Both of you two. I'm Sprag'Gor vas Kildeira. Last part's gonna change soon, though. She's a hole in the ground now, may she rest in peace." Sprag lowered his head for a moment in reverent silence for the downed ship and her lost crew.

Kal was a little taken off-guard by the other's odd, splintered manner of speech and his accent. He spoke in a rapid rat-a-tat of slung-shot words, switching subject quickly and without discretion. Veetor didn't seem troubled by him, though. What sort of parallel dimension had he stepped into where _he _was more socially awkward than Veetor? "Good to see you're on your feet. You didn't look like you'd be standin' anytime soon, last I saw you."

"Yep! Told me I almost died three times. Two times, _you_ helped me, son." He looked to Veetor as he said this. "I won't forget that. I was going to tell him, see, before the other two youngin's came in, that I was going to help out. I heard about what they done to your doctor. Damn shame. I heard she was a good woman. So I'm going to see if I can't help you find out who these folks are."

Kal nodded. This older quarian clearly meant well, and even if nothing came of it, he wasn't one to turn down an offer of help. "Anythin' you can find, we'll take."

Veetor nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

The twitchy quarian's quiet and sincere thanks seemed to be enough for Sprag. He nodded. "Well, I'll get t'work, then, and you two can catch up or whatever it was you needed to do. Glad to see you better, son. Glad to see that." He turned and limped off, his boot clanking heavily on the floor.

Kal watched him go. He had worked with some odd characters in his time, but that old man was something else. He turned back to Veetor and said with rough amusement, "Looks like you've got yourself a group of fans."

Veetor's smile was evident in his voice. "They're very good people, yes." He was quiet then, and Kal found himself waiting for Veetor to speak once again. By now the moment of silence that rested between them while Veetor gathered his thoughts was no longer awkward. It was a comfortable feeling, especially after the hectic frenzy of the past week among the ships. "It's good to see you, Kal." As usual, the words, when they came, tumbled out in a rush, tripping over one another in a mad desire to be spoken. Kal felt himself grinning lopsidedly under his helmet. "I asked, and everyone said you were busy, so…"

The grin vanished at the thought of Veetor here, alone, asking to see someone who wasn't going to show up. Kal'Reegar knew that he'd had no other choice, but all the same, he felt himself mumbling, "Sorry."

Veetor cocked his head and hurriedly assured him, "You-you were busy, Kal. It's okay."

"Yeah, well," Kal began, and then didn't finish because he couldn't think of anything to say in the face of such practical honestly.

Veetor seemed willing to let it go. "Everyone was being asked a lot of questions about being down there. They're trying to figure out who did this, right? When do you think they'll be ready for me?"

"I'm pretty sure they were waiting for _you _to be ready for _them_," Kal responded. His grin was making a comeback.

"…oh." Yes, it was back in full-force now. Veetor could apparently tell, because he added brightly, "Well, I am! I just can't really leave yet." He gestured to the tubes connecting him to a large surly-looking machine squatting near his bed. "They say I'll be fine soon, though."

Kal looked to the machine, and back to the quarian watching him expectantly from the bed. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he found himself a little humbled by Veetor's resilience. Instead of saying anything about this, he simply nodded and replied, "I'll see what I can do."

/

Veetor was surprisingly calm during the questioning. Two intelligence agents came to his room, and Kal stood nearby while they asked the twitchy quarian to recall what he knew. Veetor's rapid explanation of past events, viewed through the warped looking-glass of his badly-healed mind, at first only proved more frustrating. Veetor was trying, but sometimes it was just the way he described events-"the air was bad there, and Delor and Kal were running, and I was in the floor, and in the walls and above them when I saw the mech"-that complicated things.

Kal didn't let Veetor stumble through his halting explanations for long. "He hacked the security system of the first complex. He was monitoring the entire place from a guard post. He took control of a YMIR from there while we were under fire. Saved both our asses."

"Yes," Veetor supplied, "It exploded."

The questioning continued in this manner. Veetor would flounder with his own confused recollection of events, and Kal would helpfully supply what he'd observed. It was not quite like translating Veetor's descriptions so much as just finishing the picture that he'd started with his words. Veetor's attempt to describe how he'd altered Delor's tool was dizzying for even Kal to listen to. He spoke so quickly, in disjointed words and sentences, and they'd eventually had to ask him to move along.

Veetor didn't have trouble remembering everything, though. He remembered the tiny hoofed mammals that crossed their path on the mountain with startling clarity. He remembered meeting Sprag. He remembered how he'd begun to get upset about the atmosphere of the camp, and how Kal had grounded him. That particular event he remembered especially well.

Between Veetor's moments of lucidity and his eye for random detail, and Kal's straightforward military recollection, they were soon on a roll. The session ended with the agents scanning Veetor's omni-tool. "We might need to visit again to have you help us out with understanding the data you've collected, but this could be very valuable, especially since you were in their systems," the senior investigator assured them.

They left. Kal stood in silence for a time before glancing to Veetor. The twitchy quarian's head was lowered. Kal moved to sit next to the bed. "You okay?"

"Oh? Oh. Yes. Just thinking. I… there were other ships that came and chased us off. Someone told me about them. And now we live here. We might… run into them again."

Kal nodded and drew himself up, speaking in a voice full of command and confidence, "Yeah, but-"

"I want to."

The marine blinked.

"I… what they did. They shouldn't get away with it." There was an unfamiliar note in Veetor's voice, a quiver that hadn't been there before. At first he thought that Veetor was frightened, but there was a hard edge to the shaky tone that he'd never heard in the other quarian's gentle voice. Kal realized that Veetor was angry. It startled him.

"I know how you feel." Kal tried his best to sound comforting, but it simply wasn't something that came easily to him. His was a voice to used to shouting. When he tried to talk softly it cracked awkwardly. "I've been there too. It's normal to feel like that."

"But I'm _not _normal. I've never felt like this! I've never been this angry! It just… I've never been normal. I don't think I am now. I'm just angry. Crazy and angry," he finished, frustration and confusion evident in his voice.

"Well. …uh," Kal supplied intelligently.

Veetor quickly turned towards him. This close, Kal could see the flicker of Veetor's blinking eyelids under his helmet, and they way they squinted a little. He wasn't sure if Veetor was smiling until he heard the warmth in the other quarian's voice. "I'm sorry."

Kal opened his mouth to speak when realization struck him dumb for a moment. When he found his voice again, he said, somewhat indignantly, "You're _laughin' _at me?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. Veetor didn't sound very sorry. His voice was instead an unusual mix of anxiety and amusement that was uniquely _Veetor. _"It's just-you're not very good at this."

"What?" Kal hadn't expected their conversation to take this sort of turn. He was torn between being vaguely insulted and trying not to laugh at Veetor's straightforwardness. Before he could make up his mind, the other sensed his amusement.

"I'm sorry! But you're not! It's okay, though, because you're _trying. _Even if you don't sound right, you are trying, and that's what's important. But you… see, you sound like someone else. Or you're trying to sound like someone else. You can just sound like yourself, Kal. It's okay."

Kal narrowed his eyes and regarded Veetor suspiciously for a moment before he relaxed. "You got a point."

Veetor fell into another of his lengthy pauses and looked away, intently studying the wall. "I'm not angry anymore," he said suddenly, "You made me laugh." Once again he was thoughtfully quiet. "I thought about it, you know. About being this angry. I don't… I think it's because I'm not as scared as I used to be. Because of you, Kal."

Immediately Veetor's body language erupted into a flurry of small tells. He went from being relaxed to nervous in an instant, despite the fact that he'd just assured Kal he wasn't as jumpy as he used to be. His fingers began to twitch, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and his shoulders adopted a nervous set. Kal felt his own sense of awkwardness evaporate as Veetor's became more apparent. It didn't take long for the soldier's keen eye to discern exactly what was wrong with Veetor. He wasn't nervous. He was shy.

Kal was unsure how to feel about that. His insides seemed to be having a field day, and when he tried to pin down the exact sensation, it wriggled free and went off to celebrate with his stomach, which seemed to be trying to turn itself inside-out. What the hell was this all about? He felt wired, almost as wired as he'd felt when he was firing rockets off at that Colossus back on Haestrom. "Glad I could help." He said, forcing his tone to be businesslike. Veetor's attention was once again snapped immediately in his direction. "I mean, I'm here if you ever need me."

"Oh, um, it's not like that," Veetor tried to explain, "I don't _need_ you, Kal."

Kal'Reegar stared.

"But I do want you." Veetor finished.

For a moment neither of them moved. Then Kal grinned.

"W-wait! Not like-that's not what I-_Keelah_-"

"It's okay. I gotcha, Veetor," Kal replied with a hoarse laugh. He leaned forward and placed his hand on Veetor's shoulder. He had meant to comfort Veetor, but quite suddenly, a wholly different sort of tension appeared and stretched between them. Something had been building in the atmosphere that neither of them had noticed, and that touch had split it wide open. Kal felt his shoulders hunch in an unconscious mimic of Veetor's nervous stance. Veetor blinked helplessly in the tension's wake, but Kal knew what it was.

_Shit, _he thought.

Before either of them could say a word more, there was a tentative knock at the doorframe, and Kal looked up to see one of the orderlies. "Sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are about over," she said. "He'll be out in another day or two. Until then, he still needs his rest, so shoo!" Her light tone indicated that she didn't know what she had interrupted. To be fair, Kal wasn't exactly sure, himself.

Kal'Reegar nodded. He felt oddly disconnected as he bid Veetor good night, nodded politely to the nurse, and left the hospital. He sat silently in his shuttle, oblivious to the other passengers, and walked in a numb haze to his room. There he shook his head, squared his shoulders, and decided it was time to stop reeling from his own realization like some pre-Pilgrimage youngster. Kal'Reegar was a man of action. He was a soldier who had to live by making decisions and sticking to them. He knew when to call a spade a spade.

He was… _interested_ in Veetor.

There were several problems with this.

One of them was not the fact that Veetor was male. Quarians were, if nothing else, an intensely practical people. Homosexuality did not have the same bewilderingly emasculating connotations that it carried among some other species. While heterosexuality was the norm, nobody batted an eyelid if someone happened to love someone else who shared their gender. There were more important things to worry about, such as whether or not the entire Flotilla would starve to death.

Even so, Kal had never considered himself a fancier of men. He still didn't. He wasn't interested because Veetor was a man. He was interested because Veetor was… just _Veetor. _Besides, the fact that Veetor was male wouldn't alter either Kal'Reegar's ability or his tendency to blow his enemies to hell. He knew that. The whole "man" thing wasn't a problem.

But Veetor was _different._ The twitchy quarian certainly considered himself insane. Nobody could deny that something had snapped in his mind, something that had not healed correctly. Add some serious emotional baggage and several nervous tendencies, and overall it was a lot to deal with. Kal realized he was pacing rapidly back and forth across the short length of his room. He couldn't recall when he started. He let it go and continued to think. Veetor was most definitely damaged goods. Still, all things considered, he could be in worse mental shape. He was lucid. He was clearly in control of many of his facilities. He was still an intelligent, sentient, emotional creature. All of his flaws, under close scrutiny, seemed to be just that: flaws, not disqualifying factors.

Kal stopped pacing and drummed his fingers on hip, where his pistol would have rested had he been wearing it. For everything he lacked, though, Veetor had a lot to give. He was a goddamned genius, when he could break through the confusing haze of his own disjointed thought processes. He was kind. That much had been evidenced by his dedication to aiding both Sprag and his engineer friend. He was also damn brave, which was saying a lot for someone working with so severe a handicap in the steady nerves department. Kal was a little startled by how easy it was for him to dredge up all of Veetor's positive qualities. How long had this _feeling _been festering on the back-burner? How could he have not noticed it? It had lurked in his subconscious, building strength and surrounding him until he let his defenses down. Then it had rushed in.

Kal returned to his list. Veetor was gentle. He was honest. That kindness and bravery seemed to double in intensity when someone else's neck was on the line. Maybe that had been the first time Veetor had made an impression on him? The moment he'd realized who was responsible for the thin orange haze around that rampaging mech? Kal added the fact that Veetor was clearly resourceful to his list.

_He's also a lot younger than you, too, _a voice at the back of Kal's head chimed in. The marine crossed his arms. Maybe not a _lot_ younger, but there was a clear age difference. Veetor had been on his Pilgrimage when the Collectors had struck. Of course, he wouldn't be expected to go on another. By quarian standards, that sort of made him an adult now, but just barely. Kal was not yet middle-aged, but he had long since put his Pilgrimage days behind. Truth be told, there weren't even _that_ many years between them, if Kal's estimation of Veetor's physical age was correct. Kal was just much more experienced. Sometimes Veetor seemed downright innocent compared to him. It was more wear and tear than anything else that Kal'Reegar had to worry about.

No, that wasn't what he had to worry about. What he really had to worry about was whether or not Veetor felt the same. Kal was not an expert on these matters. There had been girls, of course, and one or two of them even serious, but the interest he had in Veetor was unique, gender aside. Kal was, very simply, not good at this sort of thing. He was far from stupid, but discerning someone's secret motivations and emotions was much different than picking apart little details and facts to find the truth beneath.

Veetor had been shy and even affectionate. He had admitted that Kal's presence was powerful enough to have diminished his fear. Did that mean anything? It was hard to tell. Veetor was hard to read; he could have simply just been being earnest. Kal realized he was pacing again. His mind was attacking the problem and the question was brisk military efficiency. There was no way to know but to ask.

But-and he could be wrong, but Kal suspected he wasn't-it seemed to him as if he might be onto something. Maybe, just maybe, Veetor felt the same as he did, which, in all honesty, wasn't much. Kal wasn't about to leap onto the nearest table and declare his undying love or anything, but there was _something _there, a tiny hope he had been harboring without even knowing it.

So that eliminated three problems. Kal knew he should not feel guilty for being interested in someone as… _different _as Veetor. Age was not an issue. Veetor was probably likewise interested. So that just left the rest of the headaches (and hopefully backaches-wait, no, he wasn't far enough along in this to think about getting a backache with Veetor yet) that came along with any relationship. In his experience, the whole "relationship" thing could sometimes be more of a pain in the ass than it was worth. This, if _this _even happened, was going to be complicated, and not just because of Veetor.

Kal felt a stab of guilt. Veetor wasn't perfect, but neither was he. They'd both discovered what a lousy therapist he made. He was inclined to be gruff and sometimes rude. He was also just genuinely not a romantic person, which made it hard on anyone with half a mind to court Kal'Reegar. The marine was half again too clever for his own good, but he could be a remarkably dense when he wanted to, as well. If not, he might have picked up on the meaning behind the whole "call me Tali" thing before she had run off to fight the greatest threat in the known galaxy. They also had the struggle of daily quarian life to deal with. They would both need to be patient and understanding. It could be worth it, in the end, though. Kal nodded to himself. Yes, it could definitely be worth it.

They would have to meet each other halfway. Maybe that was the way all relationships were. They were like jigsaw pieces, their flaws and strengths the dips and curves that let them fit together nicely. Having a relationship with Veetor would be a struggle at the best of times. Trying to do so while in the middle of this explosive situation, out on the frontier of uncharted space with hazards all around, was a downright battle.

_And since when, _Kal'Reegar thought to himself, _have I ever backed out of one of those?_


	8. Departure

**Author's Note: **Hey, look, another chapter!

This is where most of the seeds of the second arc of the plot will be sewed, all hidden here in little (and not so little) events and themes. The beginning of the chapter didn't come out as nicely as I'd liked, but I had fun writing as I went along, especially for the villains. Villains are the best!

Thanks again for your kind reviews. I thrive on those things, so be sure to drop me a line if you've been silently reading! And if you're not shy. Or whatever. Anyway.

**//Chapter 7 - Departure**

"When you set out for Ithaka

ask that your way be long

full of adventure, full of instruction."

-Constantine Cavafy, _Ithaka_

_---_

Kal'Reegar walked, still analyzing his discovery. His train of thought had been interrupted the previous night by his body's insistence that he get some rest, and when he woke, his mind was already bristling with questions.

How was he going to go about doing this? With a normal quarian, one would display attraction or interest subtly. A dinner invitation was a commonly-accepted sign of courtship. Offering to spend time together during extracurricular activities was another helpful way to get things rolling. Though there weren't many things to do as far as entertainment went, in normal instances, there were still options as far as taking a prospective partner out to do something nice. Without a bit of downtime, quarians would probably go crazy.

Such a traditional approach wasn't going to work in this instance for two major reasons. The first was that there really _was_ a shortage of things to do in this newly-established splinter group aside from everyday duties.

The second major reason was that Veetor was probably not going to pick up on something like that. His condition had left him obviously socially stunted, and he was also likely inexperienced in these matters. Kal didn't think it was ungenerous to assume that Veetor had probably not been involved in a serious relationship before, and not just because of his unusual state of mind. Veetor was young (but not that young, he kept telling himself to assuage any hint of guilt; Veetor couldn't be _that _young).

He would need Kal to be honest and frank. But what did that leave him to say? "Hello, Veetor, I'm attracted to you"? It didn't sound right, even if it was honest. He didn't know what to name the pull between them. It wasn't love. Not yet. But it could be love someday. That was reason enough to make the first step.

A bit more conjecture and planning would probably have done Kal'Reegar good, but he was not the sort to agonize over a difficult situation. When the going got tough, it was time to get tougher. Kal set his mind grimly to his plan and nodded to himself. Veetor was being released from the hospital today, which luckily for Kal'Reegar, also happened to be a designated rest day for him. He'd planned on seeing Veetor out of the hospital anyway, so he might as well do both of these things at once.

From there, he'd wing it.

//

There was a minor problem in the hospital wing as far as the discharge went. Veetor was afraid to leave his room. He had arrived there under understandably stressful circumstances, and had been there for a week and a half now. Apparently this had made his room something of a sanctuary, and the prospect of abandoning it upset him. Kal'Reegar heard about his relapse on the shuttle flight over, but by the time he arrived, orderlies had emptied the hall outside his room, and Veetor was cautiously exiting, glancing left and right, as if expecting an ambush from either side.

_Just when you think he's getting better… _Kal approached, feeling more worried than exasperated at this behavior. Veetor began to relax as the orderly he was following spoke to him. When Veetor noticed Kal, he perked up considerably, clearly happy to see the soldier. The tension eased out of his limbs. In turn, Kal felt a rush of gratified pride. It immediately sent Kal's inner alarms off. Dammit, now that he had recognized his interest as being more than friendly, Kal find himself regarding each new spike of emotion suspiciously. Kal'Reegar was not used to second-guessing himself. Then again, he didn't spent a lot of his time involved in potentially romantic matters.

The orderlies lingered only a few moments longer before they realized that the situation was now under control. Kal was preoccupied with his irritable internal argument when Veetor spoke. "Well, I'm finally better."

The other's voice immediately snapped the marine out of his inner struggle, and he nodded. "Lunch, for old time's sake?" He offered with gruff amusement.

Veetor nodded enthusiastically.

//

On larger ships, quarians were occasionally able to eat outside of their suits. There were few places on a quarian ship that were safe enough to allow the crew to shed their envirosuit, another notable one being the bathroom (which was more or less required on all ships). The splinter group Kal and Veetor found themselves involved with was not nearly as well-equipped as the rest of the flotilla. They relied on food shipments from the wandering Migrant Fleet, and for now the entire research team, as well as attendant soldiers and crew, had to rely on condensed rations, which meant more lovely paste for Veetor'Nara and Kal'Reegar to suck down.

They sat after receiving their food packets from the requisition officer, and ate in silence. Kal didn't mind it. He forced his suspicious, analytical mind to simply enjoy the by now-familiar comfort of just sitting with Veetor. The already hyper-alert soldier was thrown into an even greater state of wariness by this whole confusion, and decided to enjoy the peace while he could.

Veetor began to speak suddenly and quickly. "They sent me here to get better. I was supposed to hang back on one of the civilian ships, with the scientists and Elan. They wanted me to heal, but it's dangerous now."

Kal nodded, feeling a stab of aggression rise in him at the mention of unseen dangers. He had always been protective of his kinsmen, but woe betide any creature foolish enough to mess with Veetor'Nara again now that he had the marine's attention. "Yeah, but we got you covered."

"There's a doctor back at the Fleet," Veetor went on, as if he hadn't been interrupted, "who's willing to take me in."

Kal stared silently.

"To continue with my treatment. I don't… I don't know." He went quiet again. Kal mentally chewed over this new information until Veetor went on. "I feel--I've made friends here. And I think I could help. I did help, back on the moon. I'm… I just don't know, Kal. I don't know."

Kal'Reegar remained quiet. Veetor was visibly upset by this new turn of events, and who wouldn't be? Making a decision like that was hard for anyone, much less someone with Veetor's additional challenges. Kal knew what _he_ wanted. He didn't want Veetor to go anywhere. He was blessed, however--or perhaps cursed--with an honorable nature. Kal never shied away from doing the right thing, whether it meant taking a Colossus head-on, involving himself in detestable politics, or giving up a chance to make something more of a friend.

He made up his mind quickly. "Sounds like a hard choice, Veetor. But that's something you'll have to do yourself. You might have to live with this decision for a long time." Kal paused while his own words sank in. "Damn. That's not what I meant to say. Didn't mean to make it harder on you, Veetor."

Veetor lowered his visor and shook his head a little. There was a hint of a smile in his voice. "I know what you're trying to say, Kal. Thanks."

"Again? What for?"

"I--almost everyone who was talking to me about this--they brought an official into my room before I left today. They were all very kind, but I… I felt like _they_ were making the decision. Not me. They meant well. But still." He looked up again. "I know that I need… things. I need special doctors. I need care. But I still want to make up my mind for myself sometimes."

Kal nodded. "I think you saying that is a good sign. I mean, as far as your treatment goes."

Veetor's head tilted to the side sharply. After a moment, he added, "I hadn't thought of that." There was another, longer pause, and then he asked, quietly and without further preamble, "Do you want me to stay, Kal?"

Kal hadn't really expected to be hit with that question, but he didn't hesitate to answer. "Of course."

Veetor nodded slowly and looked to the table again. "Okay." Silence. "I… I still need to think. I'm sorry. But thank you. That means a lot to me, Kal."

Kal'Reegar had stared death in the face more than once, but damn if those seven little words didn't provoke a dance party in his stomach. He was annoyed with himself, but resigned to his fate. "Not a problem," he answered, curtly but meaningfully.

He couldn't tell Veetor about his budding interest. Not now. That would be unfair to the other. It would undoubtedly bias his decision, and Kal knew very well how serious such a decision would be. It wasn't about just living here or there. It was about Veetor's state of mind. Granted, if pushed, he couldn't tell exactly what either decision would mean, but his gut told him that whatever Veetor chose would change not only the future landscape of his life, but of his thoughts.

If Veetor left, Kal would never know what they might have been, but forcing him to stay to find out would be selfish and wrong. Kal chalked this up to simply principles of honor. He didn't realize it, but it was really just him putting Veetor's needs above his wants. Kal'Reegar's line of work forced him to do such a thing a lot, but it had been a long time since he'd made a decision like that so quickly or so firmly.

He failed to understand the significance of that. All things in time.

//

Veetor had been given temporary accommodations on a civilian vessel named _Araam_. "Civilian" was a relative word as far as the ship went. Most quarian ships were armed to the teeth anyway to discourage pirate attacks. The aggressors of the _Kildeira_ had learned that the hard way. His accommodations were small, as all quarian rooms were, but also removed from the main cluster of crew quarters to give Veetor some privacy. It had originally been intended for one of the engineers working in the aft portions of the ship, as it was close enough to the third backup generator so that if something went significantly wrong with it, the error would be quite audible. The engineer had uncomplainingly released it to Veetor's tender care.

The low hum of the generator permeated the atmosphere of his room, turning it into a palpable soup of sound. Veetor didn't mind. Silence was disturbing to him, even more so than it was to most quarians. He was seated on the floor, cross-legged and hunched over, thinking.

This place was _dangerous. _

That was not necessarily a reason to leave! Veetor was not only concerned for himself, but for the quarians who had made this their mission. He had helped them before. Veetor had always liked helping. It was what had driven him to take the course he did on his fateful Pilgrimage. He'd never before seen such immediate repercussions for his good will, though, as he had with this splinter group.

Sprag was alive possibly because of him. Delor and Kal had been rescued because of him. The engineer--Veetor realized with a start that he'd never gotten that man's name--was alive because of his efforts. When they had visited him in the hospital, and he had seen them all alive and well, knowing it was partially because of him, an emotion so powerful that "happiness" was an improper word to describe it had welled in him. It had filled him and suffused him. It was intoxicating.

He'd felt at once accomplished and oddly powerful. _You're broken, Veetor, _the feeling had seemed to say, _but you are capable of fixing others._ He knew that if he left, he would go back to the one being fixed. That wasn't a bad thing in itself, but he didn't know if that was what he wanted anymore. Not after tasting this.

On the other hand, this life had almost broken him once. The loss of Elan had nearly struck him down forever. Living here, among these ships, would bring other hardships that might be equally as crippling. Veetor knew that the loss of one of his new friends was possible, but he'd shut off those thoughts and buried them to avoid upsetting himself further.

He didn't want to become the creature that Tali'Zorah had found on Freedom's Progress. He never wanted to be like that again. That was a possibility, here.

But in a way, going back to the Fleet, finding a doctor and settling into his old routine would be like that. He would be alone again. He would be among the familiar, with nothing to challenge him or change him--and he _was_ changing, he could feel it. If he returned to the Fleet, he might never get farther from that creature he used to be. The change was a journey. He would leave this chance behind. He would leave his _friends_ behind! Delor, Sprag, Kal…

Kal. That was another matter entirely. That one man rested at the heart of this conflict. Kal's support had made Veetor less afraid. It had given him anger--a gift he still wasn't sure how to use. Kal had started something that life here, out among these scientists, soldiers, and desperate refugees seeking truth, would finish.

And, on a personal note, Veetor felt very strange around Kal. It was something of an irony that Kal'Reegar had recognized his budding attraction before Veetor did, but it wasn't without reason. Kal'Reegar made decisions quickly and executed actions based on them as a way of life. Veetor had trouble understanding and controlling his own feelings. In a way, his emotions were like separate entities in his head, and this new one that commanded his blood to hum and his heart to race when Kal was near was one that Veetor was not acquainted with at all.

He liked Kal'Reegar; that much he knew. He also liked Delor, though, and Sprag. They didn't make him feel like that. Kal was something special. Veetor didn't understand what, but he badly wanted to.

That was another, more personal reason to stay. Veetor was sitting utterly still, not at all hinting at the storm of thought and emotion raging inside his head. Almost exactly a day before, Kal had been facing a similar problem, though he obviously handled it quite differently. They both might have been amused if they'd been able to see one another, and how differently they were approaching the subject of the growing unnamed _something_ between them.

If he stayed here, something would happen to him. He didn't know what manner of change would come over him, only that it had started. He could stop it if he wanted. He could go home. It would be quiet there. It would be safe. It would be lonely.

There were people here, and moments of goodness in the middle of all the stress and hardship that made it worth it. No, that wasn't quite right. The danger and the stress made the goodness in the middle of it all just seem that much more desirable. "That doesn't make any sense," Veetor said to himself and his empty room, "But it's true."

Then there was Kal, and that strange feeling that accompanied his presence. If he chased down that mystery, what would happen to him? Would he be changed by it? He wouldn't just be leaving the comforts of the physical world if he stayed here. He would be leaving a place in his mind he didn't even know he'd inhabited until now. It struck him as strange and amusing that, by choosing not to go anywhere, he would really be embarking on a journey. It might not be an easy one.

But he wouldn't have to go it alone. He had Delor, Sprag, his engineer friend, but especially he had Kal'Reegar. "I've already made up my mind," Veetor murmured softly to himself. "I just didn't know it." That left only one thing to do. He had to let his superiors know. He had to let _Kal_ know! The thought of delivering the news filled him with an enthusiasm he didn't understand, but enjoyed all the same. Now that he'd made his decision, he was happier than he expected he'd be. He hadn't realized what he would be giving up if he returned to the Fleet until he saw that he didn't have to give it up after all.

He wanted to tell Kal immediately. It was late, though, and Kal was probably asleep. It could wait till morning.

That was what Veetor told himself, anyway, but he had a significant amount of trouble getting to sleep that night. His mind lapsed through phases of fear, excitement, and anxiety. There was so much to be done, and he was going to be the one doing it!

He thought of his friends, which made him feel warm. He thought of Kal, and he felt like a thousand tiny insects were buzzing in his blood, shaking him apart from the inside-out. A swarm inside him. Rather than scare him, it made him feel strangely secure.

That didn't make sense to him at all, but he was too sleepy to argue.

//

Within two hours of waking up, Veetor's mood had taken a nosedive. Kal was gone.

In the wee hours of the morning (which was, like many other things, relative to the wandering quarians), Kal had been called off to a skirmish. The scientists had a small outpost they'd been setting up on a nearby habitable planet while Veetor had been running back and forth all over Shasta Trinity, and the previous evening their base had been attacked by an unknown force.

Everyone was on-edge. Could this be their new neighbors showing their teeth? Nobody was sure, but the scientists had to be defended, so the marines had been sent in to secure the outpost and, if necessary, extract their people. If they were able to force the hostiles into space, the small, but formidable fleet of ships would finish the job.

Veetor delivered the news of his decision to his superiors. The general reaction was one of quiet acceptance, and for some reason that only steeled Veetor's resolve. He would make them do more than accept his presence. He would make them _proud_ to have him here. He wouldn't rest until he did.

But first, some lunch was in order. Veetor sat alone, with his hands folded in front of him and his head tilted at a slight angle towards the table. He had never really minded sucking down nutrient paste from a tube when he had someone to share a conversation with--or, really, specifically, when he had Kal'Reegar to share a conversation with. Lunchtime seemed empty without him. Somehow knowing that Kal was far away, instead of just busy somewhere nearby, made Veetor feel unaccountably lonely.

He could feel the distance between them, and he missedKal because of it. All that was left to do was wait until he returned home safely.

On the heels of that thought, he heard a commotion at the end of what passed for the quarian cafeteria. Many of the other diners were sitting silently just as Veetor was, a few were talking to the requisition officer, and a crowd was gathered around a viewscreen at the far end of the small room. Veetor felt his shoulders drawing up tightly, as if preparing to ward off an attack. The noise was strangely offensive in the otherwise perfect calm of the eating area.

He considered leaving. He had his food packet. He could go to his room and finish it if he wanted. Yes, that sounded like a good idea. If he was going to eat alone, he might as well do it somewhere he was comfortable.

He turned and began to leave when one of the quarians sitting near the viewscreen cocked his head. His Omni-tool lit blossomed into glowing orange layers against his arm. "What, seriously?"

The silence that fell across the eating area absolute. Veetor paused briefly, felt foolish for doing so, and began to walk again.

"Shit. Shit, shit, _shit." _The quarian unhooked his food packet and stood. "Let's move it," he said, tapping a female seated near him, "We just lost contact."

"Just _now?"_

"Just now."

Something in his tone froze Veetor. He remembered the feeling that had filled him when he knew his superiors didn't expect anything useful from him. Determination flared in him. He watched as the two began to hurry out of the cafeteria and scurried after them. "Wait! What's wrong? Did something break?"

The female didn't stop. She jogged right out, but the male paused. "What?"

"What's happened?" Veetor asked.

"We lost contact with our soldiers on the ground. Communications. Don't have time to talk, things just got heavy down there," he said, and he turned and followed the female. Cold dread crept up from Veetor's stomach. Communications with the ground. Heavy combat. That didn't sound good. Their soldiers were down there. _Kal_ was down there.

"Hey, you okay?"

The voice startled him. He turned to look at the four remaining quarians clustered around the screen. One was blinking at him through her visor. Veetor realized that his breath was a rapid, audible rasp through his helmet. "My friend is down there."

"Oh." The sympathetic tone in the other's voice made Veetor paradoxically more nervous. "Sorry, man."

"Why are you sorry? Is it really that bad?" Veetor looked between them and the doorway through which the communications officers had passed. "Does that mean it's really that dangerous?" He tried to calm himself down, but his brain was repeating a mantra to him that was cutting off all other lines of thought. _Kal is down there. Kal is down there. _He was down there with only a handful of other soldiers, cut off from the ship. What could cut off their communications like that? What if it was deliberate?

Kal was down there.

What if something happened to them? What if something had done this to hunt down their soldiers and take them away? With sudden horrifying clarity, memory of Freedom's Progress bull-rushed through the back of Veetor's head, slamming into the forefront of his thoughts and scattering what little order he had over them. He jerked. The quarians at the viewscreen began to talk, but Veetor couldn't understand what they were saying. All he heard was a muffled buzzing sound coming from their helmets.

A hand on his shoulder.

_Kal was down there!_

Veetor hurried after the communications techs.

//

A female quarian sat with her head lolling back against a manila-colored partition. A harsh light was filtering through the smooth curve of her helmet, and every now and again the gentle flicker of her slowly-blinking eyelids could be seen under the polished glare of her visor. She was trying to look away from the light, but she couldn't get her head to move the way she wanted it to.

"She's clearly getting on in her years." A voice, rendered slightly tinny from the small display it emanated from, rose above the low murmur of noise in the room. A screen was glowing gently off to the left of where the drugged quarian was resting limply, and on it a human man was looking down at a datapad, the movement of his eyes betraying the fact that he was reading it. "Based on what little information you've given us, she seems to be… a therapist? Hardly useful for someone in my line of work."

The human stared up through the display, from the quarian and then to the two figures standing next to her. The larger figure blinked unfathomable pale blue eyes and didn't immediately say anything. It was her opinion that business should be brisk and efficient, but these folks seemed to like their dramatic pauses and tendency to dance around a subject. As a turian, she already had a low tolerance for pussyfooting around. "So you're not interested in her," she said simply.

"Not particularly. Most of the credentials you have listed for the others aren't so useful, either. Got a few smart ones, but we need people we can train to fight for us. Infiltrators."

"You saw the footage from the fight. Most of the soldiers went down or escaped." She shook her head. "Very well. Thank you for your interest. Clearly our current shipment is more suited for domestic use." She glanced down to Elan'Shiya, who blinked rather helplessly through the chemical haze clamped over her mind.

"Well, there _is _something."

The turian looked up and cocked her head, but didn't speak. She silently wished this overly dramatic fellow would just cut to the chase. Sometimes she thought all of this foolishness was a human thing. Lately, she had begun to think it was a male thing instead. He remained stubbornly silent, so she eventually gave in. "Yes?"

"The footage. We were reviewing it."

One thing the turian had learned was that the richer someone was, the more bored they were likely to be. She had enjoyed great success as a businesswoman by simply doing what needed to be done. She seized opportunities others overlooked, but had avoided stepping on any big toes. So far that had been enough to give her an edge.

But while such a course of action was safe and efficient, it usually failed to pique the interest of the fabulously wealthy. They wanted interesting merchandise. They wanted to be part of something. They wanted to showcase their latest acquisition, be it an expensive smuggled vase or an expensive smuggled alien, and say, "Oh, do you know how I happened upon this? Well, let me show you…"

The footage of the skirmish on Shasta Trinity was not the first she'd offered to her potential clients. The very reason she'd even bothered to recover the data was based solely on past experience. Footage like that got people's blood pumping. It got their wallets loose. She didn't understand why someone would attribute a story to an item, and thereby decide its worth. She _did_ know that sometimes people bought something they normally would not have with just a bit of cinematic video attached, though. That was reason enough to send the "homework" to all potential buyers.

Aside from that, they'd reviewed the footage themselves to get some information on their captives. One of the soldiers had gotten close enough to the downed vessel for his in-helmet camera to record the name "_Kildeira_." That information had been very useful in determining the identities of their newest merchandise.

"Allow me to first suggest that you do a bit of careful editing, next time. Really, this could have been very exciting if arranged properly," the human politely suggested, "But we noticed something very interesting starting at sector forty-six. Very dramatic. Almost looks staged."

A cold flash flickered across the turian's eyes. "Staged, sir?"

The human laughed. "Not that I'm implying--what I mean, simply, is that the man's performance is sublime. Take a look."

The turian watched as her display flickered and showed the darkened surface of the moon. The lights from the burning ship cast the scene of the battle in a shifty, hellish glow. Figures darted left and right, hectic with violence. Bullets screamed. Quarians screamed. Electricity clawed its way violently out of damaged mechs. It was chaos.

"There he is--near the YMIR," the human pointed out.

The turian tilted her head. An average-sized quarian was moving back and forth among the ruined remains of the quarians' barricades. It wasn't his appearance that made him stand out, but rather the purposeful way he darted back and forth, without any sign of fear or battle frenzy in him. One by one he was using their own FENRIS mechs against the YMIR. His attack was calculated, systematic, and wholly impressive.

"A real smooth operator." Smith had hitherto been silent at her side, and now spoke. The turian privately decided that was a good way to put it.

"This quarian is not listed among your dead or your captives, so we assume he got away. Watch him here--very nice. See what he did? Lined that shot up for the sniper. Clearly, this fellow knew what he was doing. Except for the getting shot thing. He would have gotten away clean if he wasn't lugging that other fellow along. At any rate, infiltrators this good are hard to come by."

"We did not acquire this quarian," she reminded him.

"True, but unless he died from the gunshot wound he got near the end, he's still out there somewhere."

The turian didn't argue. She knew what this man was getting at. He didn't care that what he was asking was more or less impossible. He didn't care what a ridiculous drain on effort and resources hunting down a single quarian technician for a single human client would be. He was a customer. All he cared about was results.

"This quarian was in your sights once, and as I understand, this ship that crashed on that moon--the Killdeer or whatever--was from a splinter group, right? A small bunch of quarians?" The human's face replaced the final scenes of the battle on the display.

"Yes," the turian replied.

"And that this group is actually lurking near where this battle took place?"

"Yes."

"We'd be very grateful if you could get this one for us. We could use a skilled hacker like that. Quick on his feet. Quarians are smart, and they're pretty easy to motivate if you let them catch a few bugs when they disobey you."

The turian had her doubts. An infiltrator like that would have to be a genius. He would have to be someone with an incredibly sharp mind, and likely strong-willed if he was willing to stand up to a _mech. _Her private opinion was that the human was putting too much faith in his own ability to get other people to obey him. Torture didn't always work. Some people just became tougher with abuse.

"Let's see… depending on how fast you can deliver him, we'd be willing to pay around this much for the little fellow." A number appeared on the display below the human's face.

The turian decided very quickly that, for that amount, she didn't really care whether the human was right or not. "We will see what we can do, sir," she promised with a polite bob of her head.

"Good! I'll expect to hear from you within… oh, we'll round it off nicely and say a month, of course," the human went on. "We're on a schedule, you understand."

She actually did not understand, and had no desire to. Likely her human client was representing some larger mercenary faction, or even a crime ring, but she didn't care. The less she knew, the better. "We'll stay on top of it, sir. Thank you for your interest."

Once the screen had gone dark, she turned away and narrowed her eyes in peevish irritation. She had already lost a potential profit on Shasta Trinity, and now yet another gamble had presented itself to her. This one had a lot to gain, and a lot of time, effort, money, and resources to lose. And a month? That was ludicrous. But alas, such was entrepreneurship. It was her eternal curse to be tempted by such things.

"There are worse ways to live," she concluded, much to Smith's confusion. He had been watching her warily, and her sudden speech had startled him a bit.

"What?"

"Nothing, Smith."

"What should we do with her? Nobody really seems to want her. Should we scrap her?" he asked, nodding to Elan.

Ironically, the turian was not paying attention to the biggest gamble she would make that day, which was the fate of the good doctor. She glanced to Elan absently. Quarians were such small creatures (well, compared to turians, at least, which was the frame by which she judged other races), so it really didn't take much juice to keep her out of trouble. They had already sold most of the parts of the corpses they'd harvested. Quarian technology was always profitable in the right markets, and for some reason the little buggers loved to pack their bodies full of the stuff.

They would make an immediate profit off selling this female for parts, but her gut told her that she might be more valuable in one piece. She shook her head. "Keep her for now."

Her gut just happened, in this case, to be dead on.

---

**Closing note: **As far as the romance in this story goes, I am doing my best not to rush it. At least one of you expressed concern with the pace, and hopefully this chapter has put those concerns to rest. I don't plan on there to be anything serious into very late into the story, and there are many more things to do before that!

It just made sense to me that Kal, who lives by his wits, would be the first to jump on Veetor--I mean the situation. And that Veetor would have absolutely no idea what's going on. But yes. Anyway.

I might take a bit of a break from this because I want to write a one-shot, so don't panic of the next chapter's a bit longer in the works!


	9. Small Victories

Author's Note: HEY LOOK IT'S A CHAPTER

This one took me longer to write, on account of how I'm not typically good with the mushy stuff. There really isn't a LOT of mushiness in this chapter, though, so I have no excuse. :[ Oh, well. Still, this chapter warrants a genre change, so it will now be filed in… uh, a new genre. Like I said.

Also, the quote for this chapter is pretty ironic, considering its original context. Hurr.

**/Chapter 8 - Small Victories**

"Peace hath her victories

No less renown'd than war,"

-John Milton, _Sonnet XVI: To the Lord General Cromwell_

Veetor woke in the _Araam_'s medical bay.

It took him a moment to remember what had happened. He sat up, blinking groggily. His memory came to him in flashes, colors, and sudden brilliant surges of emotion. He remembered being very upset. He'd been yelling. Someone had grabbed him. All of this didn't help put together what was going on.

"Hey, you're up. Welcome back." Veetor jerked away from the unexpected voice and stared for a moment at the quarian seated next to him. The other quarian jumped, as well, startled by Veetor's unexpected reaction. "Don't remember me? You saved my butt on Shasta Trinity?"

The engineer! "Oh. Of course I remember you." Veetor relaxed a little. "I just-you scared me, that's all. Wh-what happened? Why am I here?"

"I wasn't there, you understand, but word is that you sort of… er, lost it," the engineer began carefully. "You were raving about Kal'Reegar, and danger, and _then_ you started going off about something nobody really understood. They had to sedate you."

Fear thrilled in him again. "Kal!"

"Whoah, calm down-probably shoulda told you first, but Kal's fine. The whole squad's fine. From what I hear, there was some major ass-kicking that went on down there. Communications tower was shot to hell. They had to rig something else up afterwards. But they're on their way home."

Veetor relaxed again, and now that he was more or less in control of his facilities, he felt ashamed. So much for his determination to be useful! At the first snag, he'd come undone. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it happens," the engineer replied. Veetor stared at him. "Well, okay, maybe not exactly like that _all the time_, but still." The twitchy quarian hung his head as his companion looked on. They stayed that way for a few long moments before the engineer added, "You really like him, don't you?"

Veetor's attention immediately snapped to the engineer. "What?"

"Oh, you don't?" The engineer was clearly startled.

"No, of course I do!"

"Sorry."

"It's… okay." Veetor looked down again. "I do."

"Yeah, I can tell," the engineer assured him.

After a moment, Veetor looked hesitantly to him. "What… _can_ you tell? Because I don't really know what to do. I don't-I feel very strange, especially about Kal, and I just-I don't know what it means. I'm nervous, but I'm happy." He looked helplessly to the engineer, who had his head cocked thoughtfully.

"Sounds to me like you like him," he concluded.

"I told you I do."

"No, er, I mean… you know." Veetor clearly didn't so the engineer sighed through his mask and said, "I mean, you sound like you're _attracted_ to him." No dice. "Romantically."

Veetor jerked. His eyes doubled in size behind the frosted curve of his helmet. "What? But I… wait, but…" _Kal? _Veetor supposed that made sense. He looked at the sheets covering his lower half and contemplated this. He didn't have much prior knowledge of this sort of thing. Veetor had always kept to himself. He had few friends, and if he'd ever been interested in someone this way before, he hadn't recognized it. Was that was this buzzing-happy-nervous feeling was?

While this made him a little regretful (what if he'd been attracted to someone before, but hadn't realized it? What a wasted opportunity…), he was also very grateful that he'd caught this one. Kal, a potential partner. He was surprised by how immediately he idea flooded him with warmth. It made his skin buzz. "You think I love him?" He asked the engineer excitedly, looking down at his hands. His fingers, quite of their own accord, had begun to worry one another.

"Well, uh, I dunno, but… probably not." Veetor froze and stared at him. Seeing the effect of his words, the engineer went on, "You guys haven't known each other all that long. I think you're, y'know, interested. But real love is different. Oh, Keelah, how did I have this conversation with you?" He sighed. "You'll know when you love someone."

"How?"

"_That_ I can't explain. Y'just sort of _will. _And I think you will. It's…" The engineer fell bashfully silent. "I dunno, it's special."

Veetor breathed deeply. "I don't know what to do."

"You could try telling him," the engineer suggested.

The very thought sent a peal of fear ringing through Veetor's brain, which magnified into an unbearable intensity with each reverberation. "No-I-" What if Kal didn't want him? What if Kal said no? What if Kal got angry? "I don't-I-"

"Then don't."

Veetor considered that. "No," he concluded miserably, "That doesn't sound like a good idea either…"

The engineer laughed, which startled Veetor. "Well, you're getting real agitated over this, so obviously _something's_ going on. But I can't make those decisions for you, man. Neither can Kal. It's all you."

Veetor just stared straight ahead. "I don't know what to do."

"You'll figure it out." The engineer stood and clapped him on the shoulder. Veetor nearly jerked out of the bed in shock, and the engineer hastily apologized. "Sorry, man! Anyway. I need to get running. Good luck, though." He smiled behind his helmet. "I'll be rooting for you."

After he left, Veetor swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was quite embarrassed to be here again, and eager to leave. As a nurse arrived to check him out, a sudden thought struck him. "That man, the one who was just here? I don't know his name! What was his name?"

"The fellow looking after you? That was Agara'Rax vas Kildeira." It went without saying that, until he was permanently stationed, he would bear his old name. "He never told you?" It was customary for quarians to exchange names upon first meeting, but then again, Veetor hadn't met Agara under normal circumstances.

"No. Wait! Does that mean-are the soldiers back?" Veetor felt a sudden thrill of excitement.

"I'm sorry? No, he's… he's not a soldier."

Veetor blinked. He remembered how Agara had fought on Shasta Trinity. He even had a battle drone! "He's not?"

The nurse shook her head. "He's a botanist. Used to be a soldier. I'm afraid that's all I know about him," she said. Willing to let that drop, she turned her attention to her patient. "How are you feeling?"

Veetor assured her that he was fine, and after another fifteen minutes he checked himself out of the hospital. Shame dogged his steps as he made his way out of the med bay. His breakdown was a setback, but Veetor had determination, if he had nothing else. He wouldn't let that keep him from being here, from making himself a part of these people, this place. He would just have to get tougher.

Easier said than done, of course. Veetor was twitching and fidgeting all the way back to his quarters. His thoughts turned to his conversation with Corak, and to Kal again. What if what the engineer-no, the botanist had said was true? He'd never really felt that way about anyone. What if Kal didn't mind? What if Kal liked it that Veetor was attracted to him? What if he was interested, too?

Warmth flooded Veetor in a tingling wave. _Oh. _Oh, he did want that. He wanted that very much.

Veetor stopped in the hall and held perfectly still, as if moving would displace the unbearable feeling inside him. He felt like something powerful and golden were trying to burst from his skin and scatter him in every direction. It was terrifying and wonderful. He made up his mind in that moment. Veetor took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy, but he would do it. He would tell Kal.

All he had to do now was wait for him to come home.

/

Kal'Reegar stepped out of the airlock and onto the _Yagangar. _Five days had passed on that planet, five days with perhaps two days' worth of sleep. It had been five days of dust and gun smoke, five days of piss and vinegar, and he was tired. His armor was dented and dinged, and the cloth portions were ripped or charred. His faceplate was scuffed. His body was bubbling with the dying traces of adrenalin. He stank.

In the end, it had been a hollow victory. They had been fighting pirates. These gentleman weren't shy about their occupation. Almost immediately Kal had deduced that he wasn't facing the same strange, slippery enemy he'd fought on Shasta Trinity. The way they kept screaming ship-specific battle cries was his biggest tip-off. The standoff had eventually ended with the pirates pulling out, but not before the quarian team had discovered their motivation.

They were here looking for a sister ship. Apparently, pirates had been disappearing in this sector. Kal had no idea why, but he had a feeling that the reason would probably end in trouble for everyone in this sector. He shook his head. There would be time for all of that later. His superiors would expect a full report. He was not the most fastidious of quarians, but a shower and a long nap would do him a world and a half of good. The shuttle pilot had informed the tired marines that the _Yagangar_'s bathrooms had been cleared for their use.

A group of quarians had come to greet the returning soldiers. Family, friends, and other loved ones crowded the hallway. Kal watched them, knowing there was no-one there for him, and not feeling particularly bitter about it. He fought to bring these men and women back to these waiting scientists, civilians, and children. A sense of accomplishment and pride flooded him. He turned to make his way to the shower and nearly ran into Veetor, who had just slid through the crowd to stand before him. "Kal!"

For the first time that day (and not for the last) Kal stared, stunned by his friend's actions. "Hey, Veetor," he said, his tone not really accurately conveying how shocked and pleased he was. He hadn't expected the other to come see him so quickly, and certainly not in the middle of this teeming mass of life. He noticed then that Veetor was shaking lightly.

Despite the obvious signs of his fear, there was only delight in Veetor's voice. "You're back!" He exclaimed, as if informing Kal of this fact. The marine found himself grinning for the first time in days. It wasn't just the thought that someone here was happy to see him that warmed him. It was the thought that _Veetor _was. He had pushed thoughts of Veetor out of his mind while he was planetside fighting for his life and the lives of his men, but they leaped to the forefront again, ready to be analyzed and dissected.

"C'mon, let's get out of this crowd," Kal said, gesturing for Veetor to walk with him. The other fell into step beside him, and they walked in silence until the noise of the crowd had died. Kal remained silent while they made their way through the twisting guts of the ship. His shower could wait. Sleep could wait. Spending a little time with Veetor was rejuvenating enough.

Besides, it gave him time to think. Veetor was here. Did that mean he intended to stay? Had he just stayed to say goodbye? Kal wasn't sure, but five days was a long time to have not made any decision (in his quick-thinking, decisive terms, at least). Eventually his curiosity got the better of him. He glanced to Veetor. The other had stopped twitching. His shoulders were relaxed, his pace even and steady. Most noticeably, he was staring at Kal'Reegar. The marine decided that was as much of a cue as any to speak, "So you decided to stay?"

"Yes." Veetor replied simply. After a moment, he added, "I want to be here."

Kal nodded. "Well, I've got your back, then. Glad to have you aboard." He could see the tilt of Veetor's eyes as he smiled, and Kal reciprocated with one of his own. After a moment, he went on, "So, how you holding up?"

"Th-they sedated me."

Kal stopped.

"We… we lost contact with you. And the other soldiers. I thought… I mean, I knew you were fighting and, and I thought…" He felt the familiar press of Kal's fingers firmly in his shoulder. He breathed deeply, shakily. "I thought you…" His voice cracked.

"It's okay, Veetor," Kal said. Instead of gentle and soothing, his voice always seemed to take on an angry edge when he tried to comfort Veetor. It was if he was irritated at whatever it was that was making Veetor so upset. He tried to sound a little more comforting. "Nothing happened. Well. No, that's not true. It was hell down there for a while there, but we made it out. You don't have to worry about me. I'm a tough bastard."

Veetor nodded rapidly.

"I'm sorry, Veetor."

"It's not your fault!" The other was quick to correct him.

"…no, it wasn't." Kal was forced to agree. "But still."

Veetor shook his head slowly, seemingly comforted by the soldier's usual lack of tact, and added with a smile in his voice, "I'm glad you're back."

"Good to be back," Kal nodded. They walked in silence after that. They weren't heading in any particular direction. Now that they'd left the crowd behind, they passed occasional groups of quarians who were working, speaking, or just passing by them on their way another sector. The ship groaned and hissed around them, as if the movement of so many forms through its innards disturbed it. It _was_ good to be back. "Well, they got a shower with my name on it," Kal said eventually.

The words came out in an uncertain tumble. "Kal, I like you." Kal said nothing. Veetor added, "Uh."

"Come again?"

"I want…" Veetor shook his head. "I-I don't know how to say it. I'm… you make me feel… I don't know how you make me feel. But it's good." He paused. "Yes. It's a good thing. I like being around you. I want… I-I want…"

That confused jumble of words had blasted whatever responses Kal'Reegar might have prepared to hell. Scrounging up what thoughts he could from ground zero, Kal managed to say, "So what you're saying is that… you're attracted to me?" He asked carefully.

Veetor nodded.

Kal blinked slowly. It wasn't the revelation that Veetor was interested that had blown him away, it was the simple fact that the twitchy quarian had gathered the courage to say it before Kal had. To be honest, he hadn't thought much about how this thing would play out, but he hadn't expected to be on the receiving end of the first move! He looked to the floor, the wall, and then back to Veetor. "Well."

Veetor fidgeted.

Kal gathered his wits about him. He was tired, and filthy, and mentally overtaxed from five hard days of combat, but he could pull it together for Veetor. He nodded and said, curtly, "Me, too."

Veetor's body language erupted into small twitches. "Really?" His fingers looked as if they were trying to twist one another out of their sockets.

Kal said, a bit more gently, "Yeah." He reached out to still Veetor's fingers, and instead just ended up curling his over them. It was a little odd-he'd never shared this gesture with a man before-but it was a good kind of odd. A fresh, new kind of odd. A distinctly satisfying sort of odd, especially when the simple contact soothed most of the more obvious nervous tics out of the man before him.

They stood that way for a few moments. Kal began to shift awkwardly. Veetor looked at their hands, and then back up, and said, "That's good."

"Yep," Kal'Reegar agreed.

A pause.

Both men were quite happy. Both men had just been through intense struggles over the past few days, only to be reunited one another and to find that something might come of their combined interest after all. Both men had absolutely no idea what to do next.

"We should talk about this," Kal said.

"Yes. Um. Maybe you should get your shower first." Veetor paused, and then shook his head. His tone became stern, as if he were scolding himself. "A-and you must be tired! I'm sorry, Kal, I didn't-I should have waited." His tone softened a little. "I didn't plan to… I just, when I saw you, I felt…"

"Heh, you're telling me I'm irresistible?" Veetor fidgeted shyly. "Keelah, Veetor, of course I don't mind. Might make it a little hard for me to sleep, though. How about we meet for lunch? We can deal with this then." He considered this. "We deal with a lot of things over lunch."

Veetor laughed, and agreed.

/

It should have been a moment of triumph for both of them. They had overcome insurmountable odds, discovered a mutual interest in one another, and had decided to pursue it, wherever it might lead. The road would be rocky, and their lives were fraught with danger, but underlying it all was a thread of determination and something that might one day be love.

The only problem was that neither of them had any idea in the slightest how to proceed.

They did meet for lunch that following day. They had eaten rather awkwardly at first, feeling that each owed the other something more. After an agonizing half hour Kal'Reegar had called a stop to the foolishness and proposed that they take it slow. There was no reason to act differently. They could ease into this.

It was the best thing for them, considering Veetor's fragile state of mind and Kal's obvious inexperience when it came to matters of tenderness. They settled back into their normal schedules. Only the knowledge of something new they shared was different between them, and it was enough for them, at the time. Mealtime together became something of a ritual, a pocket of warm conviviality in the middle of their hectic days.

And their days rapidly _did_ become hectic. Veetor soon brushed away any lingering skepticism his kinsmen might have had about his skills, and before long, he was bouncing from ship to ship. While he was a veritable savant with many sorts of programming techniques, he seemed to be best at twisting systems to his electronic will, and soon settled into the role of something of a troubleshooter. Kal knew where he belonged. They didn't face any skirmishes like the pirate raid, but once or twice their scientists requested the presence of a few extra guns.

The quarians began to flourish. The scientific outpost became more complex and capable. Crews settled, became comfortable with one another, and before long the fleet began to run smoothly. Out of the myriad parts, a whole was forming, and it was from the efforts of all of the quarians involved. Kal helped. Veetor helped, and Kal noticed, more than anything else, the healing effect it had on him.

Kal didn't exactly know what was happening in Veetor's mind. It was as if someone had pumped out the fear and replaced it with enthusiasm. Veetor'Nara didn't have time to be afraid. He was much too busy! The support of his crewmates only bolstered that newfound, fragile confidence. Kal was also sure not to be stingy with the encouragement, and that only seemed to further Veetor's determination. He never let himself forget that Veetor was _Veetor_, though, lest he be caught off-guard when the other broke down.

Kal, too, was changing. He had always fought out of duty. He did not question orders. He didn't shy away from tough jobs. He did it mechanically. He did it well. It wasn't until he'd happened across a nervous quarian with a splintered mind on some bleak, forested moon that he'd ever really had a truly personal stake in it. The quarian race was worth fighting for. But the thought of protecting Veetor put a fire in Kal'Reegar, who hadn't exactly been a pushover before.

They changed each other in small ways. They won tiny inner battles, day by day, that they didn't even know they'd been fighting. Kal gave Veetor strength and someone to lean on when that strength failed. Veetor gave Kal endurance and someone to come home to when the fighting was finished. They saw each other only briefly, filling in the hairline cracks of each others' day-to-day life. Slowly, subtly, they became important to one another.

Despite all of this, they were still rather helpless with the romance thing, each for reasons of his own. Later, after much had happened, they would realize how many opportunities they passed up. They would realize how many times they had to be close to one another, but shied away from out of some unnamed hesitance to move forward. Later, they would regret all of the times they could have had.

For now, though, they were happy, and in this manner, two weeks passed.

/

On the third day of the third week, Delor approached them at lunchtime. "The installation planetside is done," she informed them happily. "Down to the last terminal."

This news was exciting it itself, but didn't quite explain her mood. "Guess that means you're going planetside soon," Kal said, nodding to Veetor.

Veetor'Nara nodded silently. They'd need someone to double-check the newly-installed systems and make sure that nothing went wrong, and Veetor was their man for that.

"We're having a celebration on the _Araam_," Delor went on. "Sort of like a dedication, now that we're established. Some of the crewman got it together. You should come! The captains gave us clearance to stay up as late as we liked. There'll be stories, and dancing and singing-it's going to be really great for the crew. They haven't really had a chance to unwind."

Kal was amused by her enthusiasm. Delor was a soldier, like himself. She had been fighting with his squad around two weeks ago when the pirates raided. It was amusing to see her so enthusiastic about something as simple as what amounted to a party. He hesitated. It was always nice to see his fellow crewman enjoying something, but he'd never been a shindig kind of guy. Besides, he was fairly sure that Veetor wouldn't go for it.

"That sounds good," Veetor's replied softly.

Kal blinked at him, surprised, but quickly recovered his wits and nodded to Delor. "Give us a time and a place, and we'll be there." If Veetor actually wanted to go to a place like this, with crowds and lots of noise, it was a good sign as far as his state of mind. Kal wanted to be there for it. Besides, for all his boldness, Veetor would probably need a little support.

There weren't very many open spaces of a quarian ship, so they'd made due with the eating area of the _Araam_. It was tightly packed with quarians, most of them just talking for the moment. Any sort of singing or dancing event would clearly have to be organized because of the lack of space. Kal and Veetor both looked over the crowd, seeing many familiar faces. Kal waved a few times, exchanged a few curt nods.

Veetor was notably nervous, but stuck in there. Kal didn't ask him if he wanted to leave. If Veetor wanted to go, he would say so. They finally ran into Delor again, and she was dragging another female they didn't recognize. It wasn't long after a quick greeting and introduction that she was swept off again to say hello to someone else, but not before telling them that the first event of the night was going to be a dance.

Kal said, "Think I'm going to watch this one instead of, uh, participate."

"Me, too," Veetor agreed.

Few quarians actually danced that night. Most were content to watch. Dancing was a prized skill among their people, and the sight of a skilled artist channeling the music through their body was one almost anyone could enjoy. They had settled into a dance that told a story, some mythological tale that Kal was only vaguely familiar with. It was nice enough just seeing his kinsmen enjoy themselves. Every now and again he glanced to Veetor.

The other was watching, for the most part, steadily. Occasionally he would look rapidly about, the minute twitches of his helmet the only evidence of this, before he settled his attention back on the dancers. At the end of the impromptu performance, there was much cheering and calls for an encore, and during this intermission Delor reappeared, this time trailing Agara.

"I did not know," he remarked, "that some women could bend that way."

Kal chuckled.

"You learn something new every day," Delor replied with a shake of her head. "They're going to sing next. It's a story, from the epic of-" and here she began to prattle off about some mythological figure and very quickly lost Kal'Reegar. She excused herself and scurried off again, plainly excited in a girlish way that amused all three of her male companions.

Agara nodded to the both of them. "You two having a good time?"

Kal's first instinct was to shrug noncommittally. He realized his mistake an instant after he did it, and hastily added, "Yeah, of course." Veetor had glanced to him. What the other was thinking was a mystery.

Agara turned to the crowd. He hadn't seen much of either of the men since Shasta Trinity and events shortly thereafter, so there was a little catching up to do. Veetor abruptly initiated the conversation by saying, "I didn't know you were a botanist."

Agara laughed. "Yep!" And he began to tell them about his work. Shortly after he began, so did the song, and everyone's attention was turned to the center of the room. Kal could appreciate song more than dance. Music was… music. It wasn't something you had to be refined and educated to understand. Even if he didn't know all of the obscure references they were making, the sound of their joined voices was a simple pleasure he could enjoy.

Veetor nudged him. "Kal, I need to go out in the hall for a minute."

Kal nodded. "I'll go with you."

"It's okay-I'm not-"

"Nope. Going with you." Kal insisted, nudging him towards the door. Veetor shook his head and made his way out. Though he couldn't see his face, Kal somehow knew that under that helmet, Veetor was smiling. Before he exited, Kal caught Agara glancing back to him. The botanist nodded, and Kal nodded back. Agara would cover their exit explain to Delor what had happened.

Veetor relaxed visibly once outside. "I'm sorry, Kal. I didn't think it would-I'm sorry."

Kal crossed his arms. "You did this for me, didn't you? You came here because you thought I wanted to."

Veetor turned to him and nodded hesitantly. "I thought I could-I mean, I liked it, but there were so many… bodies…"

It was an odd choice of words, and one that Kal didn't miss. He tilted his head and asked, a mite softer, "You okay?"

"Yes. Yes, I am now. But I didn't want to ruin… you know." He hung his head miserably. "Delor's going to be disappointed."

"Nah, you didn't ruin it. I'm not really an artsy type anyway." Kal shrugged. Delor had done all she could to inject some culture into their life, but in the end, they were who they were. It amused him that their mutual awkwardness over their failure to enjoy the dedication had, in some strange way, brought them closer. "I don't think she'll mind, Veetor. She knows you. She doesn't expect you to do something that's not… y'know, what you want to do. She likes you because of who she knows you are." A pause. "I do too, you know."

Veetor's shoulders hunched, but Kal could recognize it as a gesture of shyness rather than fear. "Yes."

Kal felt inordinately proud at that, and he stood a little taller without consciously realizing it. He nodded, and they began to walk. They'd been strolling through a ship much like this, two weeks ago, when they'd decided to do… this. This _thing_ they were in.

Kal watched Veetor out of the corner of his eye. The other was slowly relaxing, in fits and starts, as they left the noise and the crowd behind. He realized that things between them hadn't really changed much, aside from their mutual acknowledgement of interest. Maybe they _should _change. They didn't have a lot of free time, but it would be nice to spend what little he _did_ have with Veetor.

The past two weeks, though neither knew it, had been the greatest test of the fragile bond that had started growing on Shasta Trinity. Here they were, separated by two ships, surrounded no shortage of other interesting quarians to interact with. It would be easy to forget about one another. It was easy to be drawn to someone in a time of stress without thinking about how they would settle into your everyday life. It would also be very easy to simply let what had started die and write it off as "it wouldn't have worked out."

Deep down, neither wanted that, though. Stubbornly, some part of them had driven them, inch by inch, further into whatever they had started. Kal was only just then realizing it. He also realized that he'd been resisting it. He felt a stab of guilt. Kal was treading carefully as far as Veetor was concerned. He was afraid of rocking the other's fragile paradigm. Things were just now adapting to a state of normalcy for Veetor. Kal cared enough about him to now want to screw that up.

That in itself was not a cowardly thing, but the marine also knew he should talk about this sort of thing with Veetor. He just didn't know _how_. He wasn't good at it. So, he'd hesitated these weeks, and was hesitating still.

(For his part, Veetor was more timid than confused. Once he recognized the emotions that stirred in them, he didn't shy from them. He had grown rapidly fond of Kal'Reegar, but didn't know how to express such fondness. Was he falling in love? He didn't know. He did know that he liked to be around Kal, and he got to do that quite often, so perhaps this was enough for now.)

The two had danced foolishly around one another, both interested, but unsure how to proceed. They felt a little closer to one another that night, and they might have taken a step forward, had they not been interrupted.

"Boys!" Both were startled to hear the familiar, rough voice assailing them from down the hall. "There you are. Took me long enough to find you. Thought you'd be at the party. Weren't. Agara told me you'd went walkin' or something." It was Sprag, of course. He nodded politely to them. Despite the obvious years in his voice, he moved quickly and smoothly down the corridor towards them. He was holding a data pad. "Here."

Kal took it slowly. He glanced down at the pad, then at Sprag, and back again. "Well. Thanks, old man. What's this for?"

"I told you I'd try and find something out about your turian friend? On Shasta Trinity?" Instantly both Veetor and Kal were alert and tense. Sprag gave a hoarse laugh. "She's real good at being nobody, kid, but I got a link. It ain't much, but it's a start."

"Kal, could I…?" Kal handed Veetor the data pad, and Veetor immediately began to scroll through it. His body adapted an absolute stillness that Kal knew meant he was in intense concentration.

"I had to call in a few favors, but if you're ever looking for someone, follow the money. That's the best advice I can give you." He crossed his arms and, while Veetor read, began to explain to Kal. "No matter where you buy something, if it's gotta be shipped direct, the companies'll ship it from the nearest spot. Ain't no use wasting fuel, right? She covered her tracks pretty good, but I found one record of a single temporary living establishment shipped to… uh, to Shasta Trinity."

The older quarian had paused to look at Veetor, whose helmet was flicking back and forth rapidly over the data pad. "He does that," Kal informed Sprag, "It's fine. Go on."

"Well, it ain't the most glamorous smoking gun, but it's still important. We gotta find out who these folks are. The shelter was ordered by a company on Illium. Turns out there was a quarian there on her Pilgrimage that offered to help me when I was making some inquiries. Not a lot of folks like to deal with us quarians, you know? Well, she did some digging of her own, and this so-called company doesn't exist. We had to go through credit lines and a few more façade companies before we got ourselves a name."

"Warj Og-gak," Veetor'Nara said flatly.

"Yep." Sprag cocked his head. "You read quick, son."

"He does that," Kal shrugged.

"Anyway, this Warj fellow's a batarian. Only he's dead. He's _been_ dead. He was murdered on the Citadel years ago. We're talking twenty-three years ago, back before the batarian embassy pulled out. The case went cold. I have a feeling our friend is somehow connected with it, but the news vids at the time said that it was part of the 'growing tensions between batarian and council races.'" He shrugged. "I don't have any contacts on the Citadel as of right now, but I'll keep an eye out. I sent a copy of this to my superiors, as well, but aside from them, you're the first to know."

"Thank you," Veetor said, looking up to Sprag for the first time since he'd been given the data pad. "This… it means a lot to me."

"I know, son, 's why I did it."

/

The news had been jarring, but a message from Veetor's commanding officer further chased all romantic thoughts from Kal's head. Veetor would be heading down to the planet tomorrow evening. The techs were being sent first, with a light military presence, and Kal would be on reserve, ready to rush in if things went sour.

They had no reason to believe that they would, though. All had been quiet for some time now. Kal couldn't help but feel a little anxious at the thought of Veetor down there, alone, but he reminded himself that Veetor _wouldn't_ be alone. He would have his fellow quarians to support him, and that would be enough. The reason this was true was because Veetor was, slowly but surely, learning to stand on his own.

He glanced at Veetor as they made their detour through the engineering bay to the twitchy quarian's isolated room. Pride swelled in his chest. "You've come a long way, Veetor," he said.

The unexpected compliment earned Kal a few moments of a stunned silence and a, "Thanks, Kal." A pause. "You helped."

"Yeah. But it was mainly you. I'm happy for you." They stared at one another for a few moments. The air hummed with the sound of barely-operable machinery around them. There was something else in the air, too, just as insubstantial and powerful as the sound. "Well, I'll see you when you get back," Kal finally said with a nod. "Good night, Veetor."

"Good night, Kal."


	10. Risky Business

**Author's Note: **Thanks, as always, for the kind words! It does my little heart good, folks, it honestly does.

The next chapter might be a liiiittle late, cos next week the Halo: Reach beta is out, and I have access to it, so… heh, sorry.

**//Chapter 9 - Risky Business**

"_Caveat Venditor."_

Veetor stepped out of the shuttle and onto the dusty soil of the planet known to the visiting quarians simply as G789-a. Likely they would come up with a nickname for it while they were here. It was a modest little world, reasonably populated with plants and indigenous animal life. It would have been tempting to terraformers if it wasn't so far away from the rest of civilization. Instead, it spun, lonely and silent, out in the ass-end of the Terminus systems.

The scouts had been sent ahead to their newly-established research base, and were directing the newly-arrived scientists--Veetor included--to their respective quarters. The base was rather slapdash, but it was _quarian_ slapdash, which meant that, though it looked rough and was hastily-built, it was sturdy when it counted and technologically sophisticated.

Veetor's own quarters were separated from the main hub of activity, a fact for which he was grateful. He spent a little time settling in and unpacking his very few belongings before he returned to camp. The scientists were all eager to get started, Veetor, once again, included, and they didn't have long to wait.

But how had they all come to be here, on this relatively nondescript world? A team of scouts looking for prospective mining sites had stumbled across the remains of an old research facility. Nobody knew its age or origin, but it appeared to have been highly advanced. Something had blown it apart from the inside, and the damage to what remained of the technology, under the years of dust and decay, was strikingly reminiscent of the fate of the instrumentation on Haestrom. This raised many questions. Were these people experimenting with dark energy? If so, when, and how? Was dark energy truly responsible for the destruction of this old lab?

Nobody knew, and that was why the scientists had chosen to establish themselves here. There was nothing in the lab that could explode or otherwise hurt anyone (except for the common hazards of decaying buildings, which had been noted and largely dealt with), but that didn't make the destroyed lab look any less menacing. Veetor went with the team sent to get initial readings, and he shook from the moment he saw the structure to the moment he left.

The grim quiet that clung to what was left the walls was disturbing enough, but the explosion had split the old lab neatly in two. It looked unreal, like a massive cleaver had descended and struck the building. Veetor bore it for as long as he could, but by the time the team was satisfied, he thought he could hear the screams of the scientists caught in the explosion, lingering faintly, like static or white noise intermingled with the oppressive silence.

As he walked back, one of the scientists shuddered and said, "That place gives me the creeps."

"Try and approach it from a professional point of view," another replied. "Don't think about it as a place. Think about it as a subject that needs to be studied."

"I don't know. It's easy to say that when you're far away from it, but still…"

Veetor did not add to this conversation, but he was startled to discover that his teammates were as afraid of the structure as he was. That was an oddy comforting thought. His fears had been sparked rationally for once. It didn't make him any less afraid, but it certainly made him more comfortable with his fear. They arrived around midmorning, and the base team was quite happy to see them. Namely, they were happy to see Veetor, because the newly-established equipment was going haywire.

After that, Veetor was too busy to be afraid. He spent most of the day in intense concentration. A lot of the time, when he was working on an error in one system, he saw that it was caused by _another _error in an adjacent system, or a system linked to the first from across the camp, and in this manner he ended up criss-crossing their establishment all day. The nest of problems was like a complicated knot, and sometimes one had to pluck at a loop on one end before they could loosen another on the opposite end.

It was tedious, mind-bending work, and Veetor'Nara lost himself in it. By the end of the day, though, he had loosened that knot considerably, and regarded his handiwork with a sense of weary accomplishment. The scientists would at least be able to store and analyze their readings from the first day. The camp was very vocal in their thanks to him, and it was obvious to Veetor that it wasn't because they knew who he was and wanted to give him extra encouragement. They were doing it because they honestly appreciated his help.

He walked back to his dwelling in a cloud of elation. He was _doing_ it! He felt, for the first time, like he belonged here. These people recognized that he had a lot to give, and they accepted it, accepted him, flaws and all. On the heels of that, Veetor thought, _And so does Kal. _

Kal. He missed him already, but it wasn't that same raw loneliness he'd felt when Kal had been sent away to fight. Just the knowledge that Kal'Reegar was safe, and perhaps thinking of him, made it easier to bear. Veetor decided to send him a message once he arrived at his dwelling. He was anxious to share the day's victories, the chief of which being that he had stood on his own today.

A pang of sadness hit the unsuspecting quarian. Elan would have been proud of him, he thought. She would have been proud of all the progress he made. He had come a long way, but he hadn't done it alone. He had friends, the strength of the quarian community, but mostly he had Kal'Reegar.

Veetor had thought about the changes that had come over him since their encounter on the lonely forest moon, and all that followed. He thought about how their friendship had changed, and how it was becoming something more. He liked that thought. Sometimes he would still surprise himself by thinking, _Kal wants _me, and that simple thought thrilled him to his core.

It wasn't just that, though. Kal was a good man, an admirable man, and he'd fit shockingly easily into Veetor's life. Veetor was fond of his gruff nature and heavy-handed affection. Kal was brave, and strong-willed, and so much smarter than most people would ever guess. He'd given Veetor strength, a gift that he had offered simply by being himself. It was with these thoughts in mind that Veetor arrived "home," such as it was.

They had set up a shack, like a survival shelter, but smaller, for Veetor. It was far enough from the camp that he wouldn't be upset by the presence of such a crowd, but close enough for Veetor to easily walk back and forth. He could see the camp through the trees, but only just, as he peeked over his shoulder. He looked back to his trailer. Maybe he could ask that it be moved a little closer. He didn't think he'd ever get over the creeping nervousness that gripped him when he was in a crowd, but he was getting better at dealing with people.

_I_ could _still stand to be a little closer,_ he thought as he reached for the welded-on door handle. The quarians didn't have a lot of money or resources, and Veetor's shelter had long since stopped working properly. The doors had to be opened manually. He pushed one of the sliding doors to the side with a little grunt of effort and turned to the interior.

There was a gun pointed at his face.

"Veetor'Nara." It was a statement, not a question, delivered smoothly to him from the throat of a tall human male standing in front of him. "Don't yell. We aren't going to shoot you, but if you start making noise, we'll have to shoot someone, and that camp behind you is full of quarians."

Veetor was quite unable to move or speak, much less yell. The barrel of the pistol was nearly touching his helmet.

"I am going to tell you two things. One: if you don't come with us, people will die. Two: if you don't come with us, a friend of yours, specifically…" He gestured with a free hand to the woman standing next to him. There were three of them in Veetor's dwelling. The woman stepped forward and brought up a holographic vid display with her Omni-tool. There was a quarian on the display. She was asleep, breathing slowly, and the barrel of an assault rifle was visibly aimed at her head. With a wrench in his gut, Veetor recognized her immediately. "Will die."

Veetor stared. Elan. _Elan. _"She's dead."

"No. I assure you, she's quite alive, but her continued survival is entirely dependent on your cooperation. Come with us willingly, and she will live."

Veetor defiantly opened his mouth, but only a horrible, strangled sound came out. He began to pant harshly. He was panicking.

The truth was, these men were bluffing. To shoot Veetor now, in this still sylvan air, even with a silencer, would bring the entire camp down on them. Even if they were rough-and-tumble criminals, the three of them wouldn't last long against a camp full of angry quarians.

If these aggressors were on the planet in any large force, they would have been detected prior to this by the quarian ships above the planet. That either meant that the force that they had was small, or that they had only just arrived to lay siege. If they had arrived with an army, there would be alarms blaring in the camp, and troops already streaming in from orbit. There was an extra guard detail scheduled to arrive the following day, and it could be planetside in instants if needed.

Either way, these aggressors had to be outnumbered. It was most likely that they had just arrived as a small strike team. The very fact that they'd even gone so far as to coerce Veetor's cooperation signaled that they needed something from him. It was rather obvious that they were bluffing.

Veetor realized none of this.

Veetor was too terrified to think.

He swallowed, trying to pull himself together. It was surprisingly easy. In that moment he made two decisions. The first decision was that he had to go with these men. Elan's safety was on the line. Even if there was a chance that she was still alive, he had to help her. She would have tried to help him. "Okay," he said simply. "Okay, I'll come with you."

//

Kal'Reegar had been surprised when his superiors informed him that he'd be on the security team. He was pleased, to be sure, but still surprised. He didn't say anything about it immediately. He simply gathered his gear and loaded onto the shuttle. By the time the shuttle was ready to drop the guard detail in and had descended into the atmosphere, it was dawn on the planet below. He looked out of the window display as they swung down over the trees and made their way towards the campsite.

"You a friend of Sprag's?"

Kal blinked at turned to the speaker. A quarian was looking at him, head cocked curiously. "Yeah. Why?"

"I was just curious. He's kind of a legend on my ship." When Kal's helmet tilted slightly, the quarian went on, "The _Kildeira_ was our sister ship. I served with Sprag once, a few years ago. He's still got it."

Kal was intrigued now. "Got what, exactly?"

The quarian was silent for a moment. "You don't know? Sprag used to be spec ops. He was an _elite. _You wanted a job done, you sent Sprag. I've heard stories about him in action back when he was in his prime." Kal's squad mate shook his head. "Anyway. I saw you talking to him and I wondered how you knew him."

Kal considered this. That would explain how Sprag had been able to uncover the information on their adversaries back on Shasta Trinity. For an elite agent, information-gathering like that was a cakewalk. He remembered the first time he'd seen Sprag back in their makeshift infirmary. To imagine someone who must have been through as much as that grizzled veteran dying there, in the cold and lonely air of that moon, was almost unbearably sad.

But he hadn't died. He'd been saved (twice!) by Veetor'Nara. Kal smiled under his helmet, and only realized after he'd basked in the warmth that filled him that the other quarian was still staring at him. "Uh. Well, that's a long story. Tell you what, I'll tell you the whole thing after we get settled. Deal?"

"You got it."

As soon as they landed, it was business as usual. They were shown around, given a general layout of the terrain, and met with the lead scientists. Though Kal was eager to see Veetor (the other couldn't be expecting him, and he knew how much pleasant surprises meant to Veetor'Nara), he put duty first. Besides, he figured he'd probably run into the other as he was given a short tour of the camp.

Oddly enough, he didn't, and it was at least an hour before he was given permission to wander freely. He hesitated a bit, but eventually approached his commanding officer. After a perfunctory greeting, Kal nodded and said, "Veetor'Nara was sent to this camp, sir. Where is he staying?"

The security squad's leader laughed. "He's just outside of camp, over there. We set him up so he could have a little privacy. Take as long as you need, Reegar."

Kal was caught-off-guard by the other's amused, knowing bearing. After a moment, he asked, "So you knew, huh?"

"Of course I knew. Small Flotilla, you know." A pause. "Even if we're not actually _in_ it."

"Didn't think I was being that obvious," the soldier replied gruffly.

The team leader shook his head. "It's okay, Reegar. Look." He crossed his arms. "You mind if I give you some advice?"

"Shoot," was Kal's response.

"I know you're trying to be a good soldier. But you _are. _I know you're checking yourself at every opportunity, making sure you're not letting anything come in the way of your duty. I heard that you were actually surprised when you got the news you'd be coming down here. I know that it's common military doctrine to keep soldiers away from… personal situations."

He shook his head. "But hell, Reegar, we don't exactly have the luxury of adhering to common military doctrine. We're all we _got _out here. So you have a special reason to fight harder? Good for you. The universe is a rough place, and the bonds we've got between each another are all we really have. We're not going to ask you to sacrifice that."

Kal could think of nothing to say to that.

"Go on, now." The team leader nudged him. "We'll hold down the fort. The skies won't come crashing down on us if Kal'Reegar takes a bit of personal time off. "

Kal'Reegar drew himself up. He nodded. "Yes, sir. And thanks." It was abrupt, but it was sincere, and he turned, heading off in the direction the team leader had indicated. The other's admonition sent his thoughts cartwheeling wildly through his head. Had he really been holding back that much, so that it had become something other people had noticed? Had it been more than just awkwardness that had kept him from getting close to Veetor? Had he been afraid (perish the thought of Kal'Reegar being afraid of anything, but he had to be honest with himself if he was going to be honest with Veetor) of letting his feelings, such as they were, affecting his ability to perform his duties?

He would have to think about that. _No, _he corrected himself, _I'm going to have to _talk_ about it. _He was going to see Veetor, and later that evening, when they were both off-duty, he was going to sit with him, alone and uninterrupted, and they were going to finally talk down the last barriers they'd kept between themselves. He didn't care if it took all night.

The thought lightened his step a bit. Tonight was going to be important. He could tell. He pushed through the last of the trees--Veetor hadn't had a chance to wear a path through the sparse underbrush yet--and saw an empty dwelling with an open door.

Sometimes small actions ended up having far-reaching consequences. If the men who had taken Veetor had thought to force it closed, or if Veetor's little shack had been fully operational, things would have turned out differently. Kal might have knocked, waited, knocked again, eventually opened the door himself, checked to see that Veetor was nowhere inside, and returned to camp to look for him. By then, it would have been far too late.

The sight of the open door and the empty shack instantly set the soldier on high alert. He regarded the area outside the shack with suspicion. Disturbed brush, scuff-marks in the loose soil--had there been a struggle? He drew his pistol and, after spending a moment to survey the scene, found a rather obvious path through the brush. He followed it.

When he saw the remains of dew on the broken branches and disturbed bushes, he double-timed it. This had happened last night. Kal pushed all of the unpleasant possibilities out of his head. He didn't need his imagination running wild. He needed to find out where Veetor had gone, and he needed deal with it when he found out. He didn't need to think about Veetor being dragged off by some hitherto-unknown large predator. He didn't need to think about what would happen if Veetor was gone.

He simply needed to follow these tracks, and get it done quickly. He didn't call for backup just yet. There was a possibility that this was a misunderstanding and that he wouldn't even need any backup (or, faintly and darkly in the back of his head, that backup wouldn't be able to solve the situation that waited for him), and Kal didn't want to draw any firepower away from the camp unless he really needed it. He also knew that he couldn't wait because he knew the cost of waiting. He just followed.

He came to a stream and paused momentarily to study the mud. Tracks. He couldn't have asked for clearer footprints. There was the two-toed impression of a quarian foot, and several more strange peanut-shaped tracks that he recognized as belonging to boots worn by other humanoid races. Veetor had been through here. Someone had taken him.

He felt himself fill with rage. Someone. Had taken. Veetor. _His_ Veetor! Why would someone do this? Kal turned and used the anger to spur him on, to move faster, pushing the furious questions out of his mind as he prepared for what lay ahead. He would find them. He didn't care if he had to search all day; he would find them. He compressed his pistol and clipped it to his side, but he didn't have time to draw his assault rifle.

The quiet, still air suddenly rang with gunshots. For a second, Kal'Reegar froze, horrified. Then he began to run, the distant sounds of combat growing more chaotic. A shotgun blast. The stutter of an assault rifle. Pistols shots--furious, crazed pistol shots. He could hear someone going through an entire thermal clip in a flurry of mad rapid fire. He ran. Small flying creatures, rodents or birds or whatever variety this planet offered, were fleeing into the sky.

Suddenly, the sound of a heavy turret drowned out all other noise. Kal pushed himself even harder, muscles burning, his double-bent legs eating up the distance between him and the chaos ahead. He couldn't stop his frantic mind from speculating now. What was happening that required the use of a damn _turret? _Oh Keelah, _Veetor… _the noise ended abruptly, and for some reason that chilled Kal'Reegar's blood further. He poured every last ounce of strength he had into his sprint, and then skidded to a halt. The trees had rather suddenly ended, and the scene before him was one of baffling devastation.

The second decision that Veetor had made was that every man escorting him would have to die.

There were bodies everywhere, none of them quarian. Their weapons lay at their sides, or crossed over their chest. They had been killed quickly, suddenly, and while fighting back. At the edge of the clearing, many of the corpses were relatively whole. Their wounds were few and obvious. Some of them were still sluggishly bleeding. These were freshly dead. This observation took him a fraction of a second, and in that second he had also drawn his assault rifle.

He raised his helmet and shuddered. Bodies towards the center of the clearing hadn't been so cleanly killed. They'd been utterly shredded. Even as Kal realized these must have been the victim of direct heavy-weapons fire, his attention was arrested by the sleek black shape in the center of the clearing. He instinctively raised his rifle, though it was ludicrous to think that his gun would do any damage to the modified gunship now swiveling towards him.

"_Kal!?" _Veetor's voice was unmistakable through the external speakers.

Kal'Reegar blinked. "Veetor?" Then, after a quick shake of his head, he went on, "Keelah, you're safe. Just shut her off. It's okay. I'm here now."

"I can't!"

"What, you mean you don't know how?"

"No, I mean… I mean I _can't_, Kal, I have to do this."

Kal'Reegar did not think, when he dropped only hours ago, that he would be standing in a clearing in the forest as the morning swelled into day, arguing with a gunship. He pushed aside the absurdity of the situation. "Just… explain everything that going on, Veetor." It looked almost as if Veetor were preparing to leave. The thought upset him. Veetor had clearly been driven into instability by the violence of the attempted raid. If Kal could stall him, he could stop this situation from exploding violently.

Veetor was thinking quicker than Kal gave him credit for, though, because he immediately said, "No! If I wait, then they'll stop me."

Kal couldn't help but be a little proud of how quickly Veetor had recovered, but this was still bad. The gunfire was sure to have attracted attention from the camp. If they got a tech in, they could disable the gunship without hurting Veetor, unless the twitchy quarian had had time to set up some kind of internal defense, which he very might well have…

Kal needed to get aboard that ship. If Veetor panicked and ran, he would need to be there to calm him down and get him back on the planet. "At least let me in, Veetor."

"They have Elan." When Kal said nothing, Veetor went on, in a desperate rush "They have her, and they were trying to make me go with them to keep her safe. I don't know why they want me, but I saw her, they had her, and she might still be alive, and if she is I have to do something, Kal, I can't leave her--"

"I'm going with you." Kal interrupted. Now it was Veetor's turn to lapse into stunned silence. "Look, if I can't get you to stay, I'll at least look out for you." Truth be told, Kal still hadn't given up on that whole "Keep Veetor from flying off into the jaws of certain death" thing. He compressed his rifle, holstered it, and crossed his arms. He knew that he was not in control here. If Veetor wanted to take off and leave the marine behind, he could, and there would be nothing Kal could do to stop him.

He stared down the gunship gamely, though, trying to make it land through sheer force of will alone. Then, to his surprise, it did. "Hurry, Kal."

Hurry he did. He skidded to the nearest hatch, which was unlocked, and flung himself inside. Almost immediately, the hatch closed, and he was pushed against the wall as the ship turned and began to streak through the sky. It was a moment before Veetor activated the inertia controls, and as soon as Kal was able to move, he hurried towards the cockpit.

Veetor was just leaning away from the controls. Kal took a seat beside him and watched as the ground rolled away beneath them. Veetor was leaving the planet at a vector on the opposite side of where the ships were orbiting. Kal had hoped that maybe he'd overlook that, but Veetor was clever. "Okay. So, I guess this is a good time to tell me what the hell is going on."

The steel in Kal'Reegar's voice didn't seem to perturb Veetor. "I already told you." But the softness of Veetor's tone made Kal feel a stab of guilt. "They came for me. They just--just _showed up_, in my _home, _and told me that if I didn't come, they would hurt Elan. It must have been last night. It's day again."

"You don't remember?"

"They drugged me." Kal's fingers tightened angrily on his chair's armrest. "I'm okay now. I slept it off, mostly, but… but I think they seemed to think I was dangerous."

"Well," Kal admitted, "you sort of were."

Veetor considered that. "Okay." And without a pause, he went on. "They showed me a video of Elan. They told me that she would die, that the quarians in the camp would die, if I didn't go with them. So I killed them and took their ship. And I'm going to get her back."

Kal took a deep breath. "Veetor, they'll probably have a trap waiting, or some kind of backup plan…"

"I know."

Kal blinked at him. "Wait, then why--Veetor, this is crazy! We should at least alert the rest of the ships here. If they knew, they might help!"

"I don't think they'd want to risk an entire ship of people just to save one person," Veetor said, turning his helmet to face Kal. Quietly, he added, "I don't, either."

Kal felt frustrated, not only because of their precarious situation, but because of Veetor's uncanny new ability to both irritate him and endear himself to the soldier. At the same time. "This is crazy," he repeated.

"I know."

"They're going to be ready for you."

"I know," Veetor looked back to the screen. When Kal didn't say anything, Veetor added, "That doesn't change what I have to do, Kal. I can't leave her. And besides, they did all of this to find me. What if they do it again? No." He shook his head. Kal realized that Veetor was convincing himself as well as the marine. The twitchy quarian had been, until this point, just reacting. "No, we have to finish this. They might have some of the other missing survivors, too. I can't turn my back on them." He looked to Kal. "All of this time, everyone has been helping me. I'm going to help them."

Kal'Reegar took a deep breath. He couldn't stop Veetor. Even if he managed to disable the other quarian, he didn't think he could pilot this vessel. He was trained to operate _some _vehicles, but this was a highly-modified alien ship. Besides, he didn't know how many of the systems were responding directly to Veetor's control.

"Okay. We'll do this your way, but only if you can come up with a plan."

Veetor nodded. "Okay."

//

It would take the small vessel twenty-two hours to reach the its pre-programmed destination. Kal decided that they should rest early, to be aware of. If there were any traps or checkpoints waiting for them, they'd probably be near the end of the journey. Veetor slept first, still shaking off the last effects of the drugs, and Kal soon followed. When he woke, Veetor was bent over one of the holographic consoles in the cockpit of the vessel.

Given a few hours alone with the computer and all of the data inside had been all that Veetor needed. He had dredged up a baffling amount of information, and he shared it with Kal in rapid-fire, truncated sentences. "Those pirates, who were looking for their comrades? These people took them. The same people that attacked us. We might be able to use that."

The idea of rallying pirates to their cause did not sound like a good idea to Kal. "Uh, who's to stop them from turning on us?"

"_I _will." There was a hard edge in Veetor's voice that Kal had never heard before. Veetor had set aside all of his fear, all of his anger, and instead had tucked himself in the very thing that had kept him going from the moment he had been dragged out of Freedom's Progress. It was determination. Simple, thick-headed, blind determination.

_Whoah. _An electric tingle buzzed pleasantly down Kal's spine, and he knew this was a wholly inappropriate time for _that, _but he decided to renege any responsibility for his body's responses to Veetor's actions. He swallowed and gathered his wits again, intending to say something intelligent, but all that came out was, "This is crazy" again.

Veetor glanced to him again. "I know," he said again. This two-part exchange had made up the brunt of their conversation since they'd left G789-a. "Okay!" He began to type furiously at his Omni-tool, downloading data from the ship's computer as he spoke. "I have a simple plan. I will drop you off away from their base. I will go in. I'll get into their system, and I'll call any pirates in-system and let them know what I know. Then I'll call the Fleet and tell them everything. You'll come in, help me find the survivors, and we'll fight our way out together. They'll be distracted by the pirate attack, if the pirates come, and the pirates will be distracted by them, and we'll slip away."

Kal chewed over this. If he and Veetor did this alone, the odds were not good. Two quarians against a base full of hostiles… well, to be fair, he'd gone against worse, and fairly recently. The involvement of a third party would only complicate things. Still, every gun turned towards an angry pirate was a gun turned away from them. They alone would know everything that was going on. It would be chaos, but if they stayed sharp, they might be able to use it.

It was a gamble, and the odds didn't really favor either option, but… "Sounds good. This ship is stealth-equipped, so hopefully they won't notice you dropping me." There were other details that needed to be worked out, in case they tried to drug Veetor again or take his Omni-tool. They'd also both need a map of the base's interior. They would also need an escape route, and transportation off… he blinked. "Veetor," he asked, "where exactly are we going? Where did they intend to take you?"

Veetor looked up from his console long enough to say, "Shasta Trinity."

"Damn." He supposed it'd been too much to hope that they wanted to take Veetor to some smaller, less-fortified outpost. Oh, well. "Okay. We have a few details to work out, but… even though it's still crazy, it's simple enough." He took a deep breath, nodding decisively, as if to banish any lingering doubts he might have be harboring. "We'll make this work."


	11. The Good Doctor

**Author's Note: **Took me a while to write because of various distractions, but the Halo: Reach beta is really fun!

Aaanyway… even though the title and quote are themed after Elan, she's only a small part of some of the major things that happen here. So. Yep.

**//Chapter 10 - The Good Doctor**

"Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her."

-Robert Browning, Love in a Life

Kal'Reegar was the more military-minded of the two, and he got to work hammering out the details. They talked and planned for hours. There was no way to distinguish night and day on the ship--indeed, such were relative things, suspended between worlds--but sitting there in the gloom of the cockpit, only lit by the lights of the displays before them, it _felt_ like night.

Kal'Reegar was still trying to fully grasp just what was about to go down. It had all happened so damned fast. Hopefully their foes would feel a similar sense of disorientation when they made this fiasco blow up in their faces. This raid still wasn't the sort of thing he'd have chosen to do on his own, but he was here, and he would see it through. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty about the wild irresponsibility of their actions, but when it came right down to it, he couldn't feel bad about going to rescue his fellow quarians. They needed _someone. _

At eight hours ETA Veetor had a bit of a relapse. He seemed to finally realize just what he was doing. He shook, began to stutter, and after a while just stopped talking. He held his hands to keep them from shaking and looked to the console. Kal watched him, uncertain of what comfort he could provide.

Finally, he said, "Veetor, if you want, we can go back now. We can try and rally the fleet, and do this their way. That might be a little risky, but…" It made much more tactical sense.

Veetor was quiet for a moment. "We might be safe, but Elan wouldn't be. And if they have anyone else…"

Kal nodded grimly. There was no telling what these people would do with hostages.

"N-no. I won't turn my back on her." Veetor couldn't keep the tremor from his voice, but there was that undercurrent of determination present, as well. He nodded, sealing the deal with himself.

"Then I won't turn my back on you."

The twitchy quarian looked to him. It was impossible to see anything under his visor with the lights of the display reflecting off of its surface. "Kal…"

Kal'Reegar out his hand on Veetor's shoulder. It seemed like a long time ago that Veetor first relaxed under the gesture, in the brisk air of the moon they were returning to. "We'll do this."

They got to work making the physical preparations for the strike, and too soon, far too soon, the smooth curved bulk of the gas giant came into view, marred only by a dirty brown smudge. The smudge began to take shape and weight, and too soon it was a moon, and much too soon the surface bristled with tall, pointed conifers. Too soon, the ship was swinging around over them, descending between them, in a small clearing over a stream.

They had approached at the vector least likely to be detected, as far away from the rest of the encampments as they could, while still being close enough for their plan to work. The outer hatch swung open, and Kal stood in the doorway, surveying the landscape. The trees were being buffeted by the force of the modified gunship's engines, and the stream below was throwing up desperate plumes of spray. The air was full of cottony seeds--apparently something like spring was happening here on Shasta Trinity--and the countless tiny points of life whirled madly in the air.

To someone poetic, it might look as if the arrival had thrown the moon into distress. Kal'Reegar was not poetic. "Okay. I've got the coordinates," he held a small device in his hand. It was a projector for a simple holographic map that Veetor had rigged for him. It was somewhat diffcult to read in the light of day, but it was pretty sophisticated for such a last-minute construction. "I'll be there soon."

Veetor had left the cockpit, with the ship set on auto-hover, to see Kal off. The marine hopped down to the ground, wading through the stream. "I'll be able to help you when I'm in the system," Veetor called again. "I… th-thank you. I couldn't do this without you."

"And you were still going to come here?" Kal asked, turning to face Veetor.

"Yes."

Kal wasn't entirely sure that Veetor would be able to do this _with _him, but he pushed the last of his doubts away and nodded firmly. "No place I'd rather be right now, Veetor." He said it, and realized as it came from his mouth that it was true.

Things rarely happen the way one intends. Kal stared at Veetor's familiar hunched and nervous form in those last moments before their parting. He remembered Veetor as the quarian he'd found here all those months ago. He remembered Veetor after they had first left this place, nervous but eager to be helpful, anxious to be accepted, timidly affectionate, but always, _always _run through with the same determination.

Veetor, who had hacked a YMIR mech to save Kal's life, and who had done other things just as hazardous in the service of others. Veetor, who couldn't handle being in a crowded room without a panic attack, but who would gladly go charging into the jaws of certain death to save someone precious to him. They were all the same person, standing before him, a strange but compelling contradiction that encompassed all of those things. Just _Veetor. _Just Veetor was a lot, in Kal's mind.

And Kal realized that he loved him.

"Keelah se'lai, Kal," Veetor called.

Kal had just enough time to shout, "Keelah se'lai!" The gunship's hatch closed. He could just make out the faint flurry of movement in the gunship's tinted window. Then the gunship rose, turned, and was gone.

Kal had to focus. He couldn't let this… _he might never get a chance to tell him_--he couldn't think about this now. No. He had to buckle down. He had to focus. He was a soldier, and he had a job to do. Pushing those thoughts out of his mind was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he did it. He started with a single step, and then took another, and then he was walking, and he pulled out his map to investigate it in the meager shade a tree offered, and then he was marching quickly and purposefully over the rocky ground. It felt oddly familiar. He had walked woods like these before, at the very beginning of all of this. Hopefully it would end well.

Kal pushed the last of his doubts away and focused. He began to run. He had a job to do.

//

Veetor arrived. He landed the gunship in the first available landing pad (which was really a generous word for the crudely cleared-out space). He took a deep breath and then simply exited the ship, making his way for the facility.

It was much, much larger than the last base that Veetor had seen. This was a proper building, as big as three large warehouses put together. It was squat, only two stories, but broad, and much better insulated from the elements than the shelter he and Kal had raided to save Delor. There were guards outside, of course. He stopped a few feet away from the gunship, nervous and not bothering to hide it. The guards' reaction was as chaotic as he expected it.

They both did a perfect simultaneous double-take. Instants later, one of them was shouting at him, but Veetor couldn't understand what he was saying. He was breathing too heavily in his own helmet to make out the man's words. The man had his gun trained on Veetor, though, so it was safe to assume he wanted him to stay there. The other guard was running back into the facility, yelling something or other.

Veetor stood, watched only by the one guard, for longer than he expected. He tried to use the fifteen or so minutes to calm down, but nothing doing. Eventually, a group of armed men and women came out, led by an unassuming human dressed all in black. He had a very forgettable face, a straight nose, and calm brown eyes. "Veetor'Nara. Where's the crew of this ship?"

Veetor took a deep breath. For once, he was grateful that his body had its way with his emotions and his reactions. He didn't have to pretend to be afraid. His voice was shaking out of genuine fear. "Th-they landed too close to my camp. They came to get me, but… but our soldiers got there first." He dredged up the memories of the desperate fight for the gunship. Veetor had snagged someone's pistol and had been firing wildly, blindly, emptying an entire thermal clip in a single round of frenzied self-defense… his voice shook with the anxiety these memories dredged up. "They were shooting and--and they… they showed me."

He swallowed and tried to look a little more composed. He could let his fear show, but he couldn't let it consume him. He had to reach Elan. He had to find the courage to do this. "They showed me Elan, though, before the soldiers got them. So after they were dead, I stole the ship and I came here. Because you have her."

The man blinked, looked to the soldiers surrounding him, and shrugged. "Well. Damn. Okay. I guess they were right about you coming willingly. Take his Omni-tool, then."

Veetor stood stock-still as the soldiers approached him. They grabbed the wrist of his left arm and extended it, digging out the chip. Veetor wanted to tell them to be careful with his suit--he didn't know if he could handle getting sick during this mission--but his throat would only let him make strangled, burbling noises in response to the rough handling he was receiving. In any case, they didn't cause any permanent damage. He swallowed and stood there. As far as they knew, there wasn't much room on his enviro-suit to hide anything, so the search was a little uncoordinated, and took longer than expected.

Veetor hadn't brought any weapons, of course. He knew better than that. When they drew away, he thought to himself, _That's it? _Clearly they didn't know what nooks and crevices of an envirosuit were best suited to smuggling things. Well, that just worked out better, he supposed. The thought assuaged his shaking a bit.

"Okay. Move him into his room. The guys'll be here to pick him up in--" the man paused, looked back to Veetor, and frowned. "You know when." He was suspicious. That wasn't good. The guards moved forward and pushed Veetor along.

The quarian marched with them. Veetor swallowed, forcing his throat to work, and asked, "Can I see her? Please? To make sure she's okay?"

"No, you can't. But she is," the man added. "And she will be, as long as you behave."

"Please let me see her."

"I said--"

Veetor began to twitch. "You're lying. You hurt her, and you're lying and she's--you hurt her…" The twitching blossomed into flat-out shaking, and the human sighed.

One of the guards said, "Maybe we should do what he asks, Smith."

Smith looked back to Veetor, apparently weighing the options. Veetor couldn't read his expression. He was shaking too much, and the man's face was blurry. Apparently the human decided granting Veetor's request was for the best. "Okay. But if we let you see her, you _will_ promise to behave?"

Kal had told Veetor to pay attention to little details, and he was trying. Promise to behave. If they wanted him to cooperate, they could just drug him. So why didn't they? Did they not plan to? Veetor didn't have long to struggle with the thought. "Okay."

If they weren't going to drug him, he had a little more time to act. He tried to stop his trembling but he didn't have full mastery of his body's reactions, so he just decided to deal with it. Smith nodded to the guards and left, presumably to report to some higher authority. Veetor let them lead him inside.

They turned a corner. The hall was empty. The guards were leading him along with their guns. Veetor was simply terrified, that much was easy to see, almost too terrified to move. So it came as a shock to them when he suddenly broke into a run, knocking one of the human guards down with the sheer force of his panic. He bolted down the corridor, deeper into the building.

"Shit--stop now!" One of the guards raised his weapon to fire a warning shot, but Veetor was skidding, turning mid-step. He had cleared about seven feet between them. He brought his right arm around. There was an orange holographic glow around it.

"_They know you're dangerous, so the first thing they're going to do is confiscate your Omni-tool," Kal had said. "I'll give you mine. It'll be a decoy. Then you can use yours. It's the best edge you've got."_

"_How are you going to find me?" Veetor had asked. _

"_Rig me a map, and I'll find you."_

A pulse from the Omni-tool overloaded their shields, and as one of the angry guards was drawing a pistol to shoot out of sheer irritation, Veetor waved it again. Sabotage!

There was an impressive explosion. The guns were overheated. The _guards_ were overheated. One of them had been killed in the middle of the blast. All of them had been badly burned. The one least-damaged was a turian, who was shaking his head, still dazed, and trying to bring his useless weapon to bear out of instinct.

Veetor ran.

"_They're not going to keep mechs anywhere _near_ you, so be aware that there's not going to be much you can hack. Find a safe place and get into the system. Lock 'em down. Clear a path to the refugees, but try to cut off everyone else." _

Veetor kept running. The large building was somewhat understaffed, and it was by sheer luck (and the grace of an addictive diuretic) that he came across an empty security booth. There was a half-drunk cup of coffee, and nothing else in the room. Veetor darted inside and shut the door, hurriedly locking it.

"_The key is speed. Get in, get the doctor, and get out. If you find any more of our people, get them out, too. Arm them if you can, but we don't need to fight these people if we can avoid it. We just need to run."_

He hunkered down and got to work. Their system had been fortified against him, but he had direct access to their security systems from this room, and no-one could fortify a direct link into their systems from Veetor'Nara. What had possessed that guard to leave his station the way he did? Veetor didn't linger of the question. He got to work.

He had the advantage of knowing just what was going on, and what he planned to do, but he was also on a time limit. The alarms blared briefly. Veetor hurriedly typed at his Omni-tool and shut them off. He began to scan through the security screens rapidly. He felt his mind focusing, tunneling, blocking out everything but the screens before him. Images flashed by, more and more rapidly as Veetor began to concentrate, until the screen was a flickering patchwork of light.

He stopped abruptly as one of the screen showed him a sickening sight--a room full of his people, parceled out into cells. He marked their coordinates in his Omni-tool. While he commanded the computer to map a new route, he also set to work with their broadcast. Soon he had it prepared. All it would need was a signal from his Omni-tool to send it off.

"_Get to the captives first. We don't exactly have the best backup, so we can't trust these pirates. They don't look like they were running the most sophisticated equipment down there, so I don't know how far the signal will go. Hopefully we'll be able to reach the fleet. We might not be lucky enough to reach any pirates, so also be prepared to fight your way out of here alone." Kal had paused, and added with a rough chuckle, "Well. Not _alone._"_

Veetor now had remote control. He cleared a path to the captives and set about locking the rest of the facility down as he ran, commanding the enslaved programs from his Omni-tool. He burst out of the security booth and began running. That was one thing Veetor was very good at--just flat-out _running. _He turned a corner just as the booth's wayward security guard exited the men's restroom. The human blinked. Had he heard something?

No. Probably just the new facility settling or something. Anyway, he thought he had heard the alarms, so he hurried back to his booth.

Veetor knew that his enemies knew that he was loose. The silenced sirens were mainly for his own comfort--he didn't know how well he'd be able to concentrate with the eerie wail ringing in his ears. _Concentrate, Veetor. Concentrate. _

He ran, checking his Omni-tool as he did. His havoc on the facility's computers paid off. He ran into very few personnel. Once, he heard a guard detail coming from a perpendicular hallway, and he quickly unlocked a door, dove in, and locked it again with his Omni-tool. They came around the corner and rushed past. Veetor was soon on his way again.

Another time he nearly bowled over a batarian woman coming out of an office. She had managed to unlock her door from the inside. When she saw the quarian running towards her, she flattened herself against the wall, all four eyes wide with fear. She had no armor, no weapons. A noncombatant. Veetor sped past.

Finally, he skidded to a stop, checking his Omni-tool. The door to the holding cells looked just like any other door. He made quick work of it and stepped inside. What he saw, up close and in sharp detail, doubled his trembling, but he was shaking now with rage.

The rooms were comfortable. They were small, with a bed, and a carpeted floor. The cell walls were clear, so that each quarian could see the captive in the cell adjacent to them, and so that at any moment their every move was subject to the guards' scrutiny. Some cells had more than one quarian in them. Some of them looked up as Veetor entered. Some just continued to stare at the floor.

"Keelah!" the nearest exclaimed. "A quarian!"

Veetor had come here to free one person specifically. He had thought nothing could anger him more than the senseless death of Elan, but the sight of his kinsmen penned up like animals changed his mind, and quickly. He stood a little taller, and, unable to quickly think of anything suitably heroic, said, "I'm going to help you."

Cracking the cells was a little tough. They were, after all, designed to hold quarians, but Veetor, armed with his formidable tool and his even more formidable mind, prevailed over them. As soon as Veetor got the first cell opened, he paused, stood back, and used his Omni-tool to signal the computer. It was time to relay the signals he'd prepared in the security booth.

"_We need to send out two signals. First, we need to make sure that any pirates nearby will know what's happening. Second, we need to let the fleet know where to get us. I don't think it's a good idea to bring them directly to Shasta Trinity after we've turned it into a real hellhole."_

_Veetor shook his head. "No. That would be too dangerous."_

_Kal nodded his agreement. "So, what we'll do is we'll give them some rendezvous coordinates. Once we make it off the planet, we _get_ to those coordinates. If we can take this ship, then good; a stealth vessel might go overlooked if the pirates decide to show up."_

Veetor nodded to himself. It had been perhaps, in all, forty-five minutes since he'd landed. Hopefully Kal was getting close, because his leadership responsibility now extended to several other quarians, and he was determined to keep them safe. He got to work on the other cells, and in the end, he had seven quarians to escort. Two of them could fight.

Elan was not among them. Veetor looked over the assembled quarians. "Do you know where they took the doctor? Where they took Elan?"

Nobody knew. She had been in and out of the cells, more so than most of the rest of them. If Kal'Reegar were there, he might know why she was being taken out so regularly (the reason being interrogation over Veetor, most likely). She'd been moved that morning, and the others hadn't seen her since. Veetor fidgeted, distraught. What were they going to do? There was a whole facility to search, and he didn't have the time or the firepower to search it.

He looked to the quarians standing before him. They were a little bedraggled, but overall not much worse for the wear. He couldn't see their faces, but he could sense their hope. They'd woke this morning, probably expecting the rest of their lives to be lived in cages like this, and then he had come along. They needed him. They were depending on him.

It broke his heart to know that Elan was somewhere here, so close, and yet still out of his reach, but he couldn't leave these people. He knew what she would have told him to do, and it happened to be exactly what he _wanted _to do. He nodded. "Okay." His gentle voice wasn't really suited for decisiveness, or for any sort of commanding air, but he gave it his best shot. "We're going to escape. Follow me, and stay close. Can all of you run?"

They could, and they would. He led the quarians out, checking the hall, and then paused momentarily, pulling his Omni-tool up and checking their escape route. He nodded decisively and led the group. They broke into a run. They stuck close and took the corners fast, knowing that their best bet was just to try and escape the confusion.

But luck could only last so far, and it began to go wrong when they encountered a guard detail. Veetor skidded to a stop. The guards, not expecting to run headlong into a full group of quarians, did the same. The two groups stared at one another. In the instant that followed, Veetor took the initiative. Before the guards could react, he'd waved his Omni-tool.

Their shields sizzled under the force of the powerful overload. Veetor was startled to see a blur dart out of the crowd next to him, and suddenly a small female quarian lunged for the nearest human male. She grabbed the human's rifle and pushed it, hard, against his face. It cracked painfully against his nose. Her movements were frantic, jerky, and crazed.

One of the other guards was bringing his gun to bear on her, but she had pried the rifle from the stunned human's grip, and turned it on her enemies. In the tight corridor, she didn't need good aim. Bullets sprayed from the muzzle of the gun into the shield-less guards. "I am _going home!" _She shrieked.

The two guards hit the floor, and before the rest could return fire, another of the quarian prisoners had lunged forward, wielding a pistol from one of the guards felled by the hysterical female. She was still firing, the insanity of her attack carrying the day. Over the roar of gunfire Veetor heard the words, "To see _my baby boy!"_

Veetor recognized her then. She finally burned through the rifle's thermal clip, and stood there, still compulsively squeezing the trigger, until another of the group came forward and gently took it from her hands. She was that same quarian that had sat beside Kal on their first trip by this moon, the cheerful, talkative one who never stopped gushing about her son.

Veetor glanced down at the motionless bodies and felt a thrill of old, old fear rising up. It was as if those bad memories had been buried in the thick mud of his subconscious, and this crazed rescue attempt was an influx of violent new water. It was all being stirred up again. He swallowed and looked away. "We should… w-we--"

"Don't worry. We got it." The second quarian to lunge forward assured him The captives began to pass around the weapons. They didn't have time to dig out the kinetic shield generators, so instead they just moved. Not every quarian was armed, and those that were ran at the front of the group. It was dangerous for an untrained quarian to try and shoot in such close quarters.

So far there was no sign of any outside activity, but it was hard to tell.

"_Don't plan on any rescue. We know there won't be an extraction, and we can't say for sure if the pirates will show up. Even if they do, don't depend on them to play nice. Just run. Our best chance is to move fast, and our best hope of getting out of here is that gunship." Kal had shaken his head. "Shit. I'm actually starting to believe this will work."_

They pushed on, relying on Veetor's hacking ability, their speed, a little gun power, and a lot of luck to carry the day.

//

Kal had broke into a run almost immediately, only stopping to check his rigged-up map. It would be difficult for anyone watching to miss him. His bright red suit was like a beacon, a brilliant spot of color weaving through the grey-and-brown landscape. Kal was aware of this, and he didn't care. By the time he got close enough to the base for anyone to worry about him, Veetor would have infiltrated their system.

He hoped. Even if Veetor failed, Kal'Reegar's part of the plan would remain the same. He ran. He was sprinting across a clearing when Veetor finally landed. He was carefully, but quickly, negotiating his way up a pebble-strewn slope when Smith interrogated Veetor. He ran on. He splashed across a stream when they took Kal's dummy Omni-tool. He kept going.

Kal disturbed a flock of the leathery flying creatures as Veetor turned on his captors. The creatures sped away through the trees, making flutelike calls to one another as they did. Now Kal and Veetor were both running, Veetor skidding and speeding through the narrow corridors of the enemy's base, and Kal leaping and dodging the landscape of Shasta Trinity. Kal's lungs were burning and his breath was harsh in his helmet, but he was a soldier, he was trained for this, so he kept on running.

//

Veetor was growing tired, too, but adrenalin and mad panic was fueling his body's desperate struggle. He didn't have much more to endure; they were nearly out, if his Omni-tool's display was any indication. They would emerge on the south side of the building, which would leave a lot of ground to cover until they reached the gunship, but it was better than being trapped inside.

He turned a corner, and halted. The group of quarians did the same, skidding unevenly. Some raised their weapons.

There was a turian standing at the end of the hall. She was close enough to the exit that the door's proximity sensors had opened it for her. She was an unremarkable creature, with dull brown scales, and no distinguishing characteristic except for perhaps her eyes. They were a pale shade of glacial blue. She looked a little bored. "Veetor'Nara."

She was holding a quarian by the shoulder, her talons digging dangerously into the envirosuit. The quarian was swaying on her feet, obviously not quite lucid. She was bedraggled, her helmet scuffed, parts of her suit's cloth components frayed, and she was unmistakably Elan. There was a pistol pointed at her head.

Veetor began to shake.

Rather than say anything else to him, the turian gave the doctor a little shake and spoke to her. "Your patient."

Elan blinked groggily, shook her head a little, and, still swaying, trying desperately to focus, stared at him. After a moment, she said, very softly, "Veetor?"

Veetor wanted to answer her, but his throat wouldn't work. He stared between the turian and Elan'Shiya.

"I think you know what's going to happen if you don't surrender now," the turian went on flatly.

//

Kal arrived at the facility. He didn't pause. He didn't worry about stealth. When he had first raided one of the small encampments on this godforsaken little moon, he'd been at a serious disadvantage. This base wasn't little, and Kal was just one man, but he had just enough of an edge to make the odds a tad more favorable.

Sometimes, if you packed enough heat, stealth was a secondary concern. The cargo hold of their hijacked gunship had been packed full of all kinds of interesting and useful weapons. Kal'Reegar swung the rocket launcher from his shoulder, took aim at the guards posted outside the door, and fired. The explosion was impressive. He closed the distance between the tree line and the facility in a hurry, kneeling down by one of the fallen guards and quickly stripping him of his comm device.

Kal ran, making for the rovers towards the south side of the building to use as cover. His shields were starting to stutter as he slid behind one of them, and he hurriedly began to configure the guard's comm unit. Hopefully it would help him narrow down the location of the fleeing prisoners.

//

The first explosion rattled through the floor, and everyone stumbled. The quarian refugees nearly fell over. Elan slipped, and her fall, combined with the shaking of the building, caused the turian to stumble.

Veetor's thoughts tightened into a rapid funnel. Kal was here. They were close. Elan. His body moved without permission from his mind, and he grabbed one of his teammates' pistols, stepped forward, and pointed it at the turian's face.

Her mandibles flared in irritation, momentarily baring her teeth, and then she simply dropped Elan, pointing her pistol at straight at Veetor's face. The two stood, stock-still, locked in a standoff.

//

Kal'Reegar was good at multitasking, but even he was having a tough time trying to decipher the chaos over the radio and returning fire to the advancing guards. He crept to one end of his rover, sent a stutter of assault-rife fire back at his foes, and then crept to the other end, readying a grenade. The comm unit crackled unhelpfully.

A shadow passed over him. He looked up.

A rather patched-together-looking vessel was swinging down over the facility. Instead of landing, it simply dipped low over the lawn between the building and the trees, spilling armored forms as it did. They were shrieking and whooping in a manner familiar to the soldier. So their cavalry (as it was) had finally arrived.

Kal peeked behind his cover, clipping his grenade back. The pirates hadn't noticed the one lone quarian crouching behind a rover, and probably wouldn't until he started to open serious fire. Time to look for a way in. As he surveyed the situation, he noticed a door on the south face of the building was open. There was an indistinct figure there with its back to him, but it was standing still. Surely, in this chaos, it should have been moving in some way? Something strange was happening.

He pulled out his sniper rifle and peered into the scope. It was a turian. And--Kal's blood chilled--at her feet was the form of a female quarian. From his angle he couldn't make out more than that, but it was enough. He wasn't able to get a good shot at her without risking hitting the quarian at her feet from this distance, and there wasn't a whole lot of cover for him to set up a shot anyplace closer.

Well. He would have to hope the distractions would cover him. He could already hear the pirates and the guards beginning to exchange fire. He took a deep breath, readied a pistol, and, ducking his head down, ran for the door. He heard the low rumble of another ship (or was it the same ship? He couldn't look up and check) passing overhead.

Kal heard the low boom of a grenade launcher, the tinny voices of LOKI security mechs (these the pirates had undoubtedly brought along) and the growing sounds of chaos erupting around him, but he kept his attention professionally focused on his goal. His shields sizzled, but he kept his eyes on the turian.

//

Those instants, pistol-to-pistol with their turian antagonist, seemed to stretch forever for Veetor. His breath, which had been elevated by running and stress, began to slow. He stared through his visor into her pale eyes. Neither moved.

Veetor wanted to ask why she was doing this, why she wouldn't just let them _go,_ but he couldn't speak. He couldn't tell if she wanted to say anything. At any rate, she didn't. She just stared him down.

And then suddenly the light from outside was blocked by a figure in red, who pointed a pistol at the back of her head. "Drop it," Kal growled, "Right-fuckin'-_now." _

Once again her mandibles flared, but she didn't take her eyes off Veetor. Slowly, she lowered her pistol, and Kal'Reegar reached around her to snatch it from her. Quite suddenly, she spun, lashing out with a sweeping kick, nearly catching the quarian off-guard. Kal leaped back, holding his fire. It wasn't safe to shoot at her in the corridor, with a quarians filling the hall behind her. He settled into a defensive stance, ready to fight her hand-to-hand. It was almost an even match. Kal'Reegar was a battle-hardened quarian marine, but this turian had been trained for combat since she was fifteen, and she had a size and weight advantage over Kal. His moment of hesitation, where he had considered the safety of his comrades, though, had furthered the odds in her favor.

She took a step towards him, and struck at his face-plate with her armored forearm. There was a horrible splintering sound.

Veetor screamed and fired wildly, but he missed her (and nearly hit Kal). One of the quarians beside him grabbed his arm. Veetor stopped, panting. The turian tried to strike again, but despite the damage to his helmet, Kal was ready for her, and he pistol-whipped her across the face. She blinked, only marginally stunned by the blow. Kal moved in again, bringing his knee-guard up harshly into her stomach, and with a hiss, she doubled over.

Kal began to raise his weapon again, but she rushed him, bowling the smaller quarian nearly over with her bulk. In an instant, their positions had been reversed. She stood in the threshold of the door, her weapon trained on him. Kal spun to face her, doing the same. She glanced once at him, and his guard of angry quarians, some of them armed, and instead of further engaging him, rolled deftly to the side. She then began to back away from them, her gun still trained on them.

Kal'Reegar followed her with the muzzle of his firearm on her as she backed away. When she sensed she was out of his pistol's range, she turned and ran, and was soon lost in the confusion surrounding the building. Kal gave his head a shake and looked to the captives. "Everyone okay?"

"Kal, your helmet--" the words tumbled out of Veetor's mouth before he could stop them.

"I'll be fine, Veetor. We have to get away from here." Veetor nodded and knelt by Elan, who had already started to try and rise from her feet, but the chemicals in her bloodstream made her uncoordinated.

"Veetor, what are you…?" she managed.

"Don't worry. I'll tell you later. You're okay now, Elan," Veetor said. To be able to say those words filled him with a sense of strength. He stood a little taller as he helped her to her feet. "Somebody help her move. I have to help Kal fight." He passed her off to some of the non-combatants and, casting one last lingering look of affection and disbelief her way, turned to the soldier.

Kal's visor was cracked. The wan light was reflecting from its now crazily-faceted surface. "We'll have to cover the group. The gunship's a bit of a run from here, but hopefully nobody will notice us." He stared at Veetor for another moment, and the twitchy quarian tilted his head, as if he could sense that Kal wanted to say something more. Instead, Kal nodded and said, "Let's move."


	12. Overtime

**Author's Note:** This chapter was a bit late because of RL distractions. Busy week, with my sister graduating and all! And, of course, I had to prepare for the zombie walk. SO.

It's also on the long side. Or so it seemed to me. When I started writing this, I didn't want to have too many Ocs running around, but I soon realized that was not feasible, with the setting I'd chosen. WAY TO GO, ME. So I decided to give them an important role. Next time I'll choose a location not so… er, remote.

I have also noticed that likes to EAT MY PUNCTUATION, turning all of my proper dashes into hyphens. I'll look into fixing that when I do final revisions for the story. Until then, ON WITH THE FIC.

**/Chapter 11 - Overtime**

"'How lucky we are to have seen them pass by,' Buttercup's mother said, and she took her husband's hand.

The old man nodded. 'Now I can die.'

She glanced at him. 'Don't.'"

-William Goldman, _The Princess Bride_

Back on G789-a, nobody really knew what to think.

In the time that Veetor and Kal'Reegar were planning their attack in the dark interior of the stolen gunship, the quarians back at camp were investigating the scene of its departure. The initial flurry of heavy-weapons fire had drawn the attention of the camp guards, but by the time they had pushed through the woods and pinpointed the site, the ship was gone.

The guard team held the site while a few more soldiers were flown down from orbit to keep their campsite secure, and while this was happening, everyone involved was already doing what they could to figure out exactly what had happened down there. The campsite itself had not been disturbed, but at and around the crash site, there were a lot of dead aliens, some quarian prints not too far away, and evidence that a vessel capable of leaving the atmosphere had come and gone.

To what purpose? Who had flown it there and away? The news that two of the camp's number were missing only roused further suspicion. Delor'Shaal had taken it sort of hard, and had insisted on being on the second ride down. She didn't know the missing men terribly well, but after what they'd been through, she considered them friends. Now something strange had happened to them. Nobody in the camp wanted to believe that they were traitors, so the general consensus seemed to be that they had been taken somewhere.

"From what we can tell." The leader of the security detail was large for a quarian hell, he'd have been large for a _human…_ "The bodies near the center of the site were killed with a variety of small-arms fire and sabotage techniques. The ones at the far end were destroyed by the gunship. Looks like one of our boys turned their own weapons against them." He nodded to the corpses.

Delor was kneeling by one of the bodies. This one had been very simply shot several times in the chest. There were no markings, no insignias to give a clue as to where he was from. They had already gone over the area for any manner of clue, but nothing useful had turned up. Instead, she stared at the corpse, willing it to give up its secrets and listening to her boss.

"Probably Reegar," the man went on, "Maybe he was subdued once he was in the craft, and he was taken away. It's also likely that Nara went with him, but given his condition, it's just as likely he fled." For this reason, another detail had been sent out into the woods to look for Veetor. Delor had arrived after they'd been sent out. She wished she'd been allowed to go with them.

"But if someone took _them_… then why?" she asked, looking up. "And why didn't they come after the camp?"

The leader shook his head. "We don't know. We've been running into trouble with pirates. Maybe Reegar and Veetor were out here, alone, and they ran into some scoping out the camp, and it escalated from there. We can't say just yet." He turned to the gathered soldiers and went on. "But we'll find out what happened, and what we can do to help. That's our job."

Delor stood, shaking his head. She'd had enough of staring at the dead man. As she did so, a slight movement in a faint passing breeze caught her eye, and she paused. It was something pale, fluttering over the edge of the man's boot. She trotted around to peer at the bottom of his sole. There, lodged in the mud encrusting his boot, was some sort of strange tufted thing. Carefully, she removed it.

It was a seed. It was small, with a long leaf-like blade sheathing and extending from it. It was covered with a layer of fluff that flared from the end of the blade. The breeze tugged at it. "Boss? I've got something here."

A few of the gathered soldiers came to see. "It was stuck to the bottom of his boot," Delor went on, "Is this from here?"

"I don't think I could say one way or the other," the squad leader replied, shaking his head. "But it's possible. We found some tracks further away from here, so they would have covered a lot of ground before they were gunned down."

"Not thissun." Everybody automatically looked up at the rusty sound of Sprag's voice. The older quarian had been at the site earlier in the morning, and nobody had expected him to return until evening. He had appeared, silently and apparently out of nowhere, and now he knelt by the group. "We took their Omni-tools earlier. Thissun's the pilot. He probably only left the ship right before he died." He turned his attention to Delor and nodded. "You might be onto somethin', little miss."

Had it been anyone else that called her "little miss," Delor might very well have launched into a stern lecture, but this was Sprag, the pride of the lost vessel _Kildeira_, her home ship. Sprag could have called her Miss Daisy and she would have been okay with it. "Well, there's still a chance that it did come from here, but…"

"Look into it," the security chief said with a nod, "See if you can find anything out about it. Hell, it's not like we got a lot of other leads to go on. Let us know if you find anything."

Delor nodded and stood, carefully cradling the seed and staring at it, but she didn't feel very confident. These intruders could have come from the entire other side of the planet, and who knew how many seeds were here or there? She sighed. Someone nudged her shoulder.

She looked up, and Sprag was offering her an open evidence bag. She dropped the seed neatly inside. "Thanks."

"I'm worried about 'em, too." Sprag crossed his arms.

Delor looked down. "Things like this happen all the time." She wished she'd spent more time talking to them, getting to know them. She'd known just enough to like both of them, and now they were gone. Somebody was going to have to tell Agara, too "Wait," she said suddenly, "Agara's a botanist."

Sprag tilted his head. "Think he might be able to help?"

"I don't know, but he could probably tell us more about it. It's worth a shot!" A frail spark of hope had flickered to life in her. "He's not at camp, though, is he? I think he's on the _Araam_ right now."

"_Yagangar_," Sprag corrected her, "You need a ride?"

"You offering?" Normally requesting transport to another ship could be a lengthy process, but this _was_ Sprag she was talking to.

Sprag simply chuckled.

/

"Just so you know," Agara said, examining the seed carefully in its evidence bag, "I'm a _nutritional _botanist. I don't do fieldwork."

Delor and Sprag were standing in his personal quarters. He'd been settling down to sleep when their message had reached him. Delor blinked, feeling a little foolish. "Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine." Agara examined it for a few more minutes. "But I can tell you a little about it, actually. These are pretty good eating. It's a conifer seed. The little fluff at the end catches the wind and pulls it out of the cone, and once its airborne, it spins with the little blade here. The fluff usually shoots off then, and just sort of floats around on its own after that. These little guys are way high in protein, and easy to make into nutrient paste. The species is actually kinda common on a lot of different worlds out here."

There was a pause.

"There's a lot of theories as to why-"

"I think we're good." Sprag said. "You think it's from this planet?"

"It could be, Sprag." He shrugged. "There could be a forest of these trees in the northern regions. If there is, I say we do some good old-fashioned harvesting. They'd just need to be shucked, sterilized, and ground. They taste good, too." He handed the seed back to Delor, but she was staring straight ahead. Agara sensed her mood, and winced. "I'm sorry, Delor. I know you want them to be okay. I do too, but-"

"Conifers. Evergreens, right?" She cocked her head.

"Yeah."

Delor lowered her head. Evergreens. Something about the word "conifer" had seemed important to her. It tugged at something in her memory, a mental image of tall, sticklike trees rising from a bleak and barren landscape-she looked up sharply. "You don't think this could have come from Shasta Trinity, do you?"

"The moon?" Agara blinked behind his visor. "Well… yes, I saw this species there. We were thinking of using it as food, in a pinch. So there's a chance, but-"

"Those people there wanted to capture us. Alive. What if they came here to take us? What if Reegar stopped them? You don't think they took him back, do you?" She looked between Sprag and Agara. "You don't think…" Her voice trailed off into silence. The three quarians were silently contemplative.

"Well," Sprag interrupted, "one way to find out."

He turned and marched out of the room. For a moment Agara and Delor just stared at the spot where he'd stood, uncertain, and then Delor scrambled after the old soldier. Agara looked to his bed, then to them, and then silently decided to follow as well.

Sprag knew where he was going. He marched purposefully through the corridors until he came to the _Yagangar_'s command station. "Sir," he said smartly to the captain. His tone of voice became instantly cool and businesslike, and his strange, stilted manner of conversation vanished entirely. It was a little startling for Delor to hear. It was as if another quarian had suddenly bloomed to life in his enviro-suit, pushing out the Sprag she knew. "We believe we have evidence on the whereabouts of the two missing quarians. One of them was a marine in your care, and another was a crewman of the _Araam. _Therefore I believe this information should be simultaneously released to the captains of both ships, sir."

The captain blinked slowly at Sprag. He was familiar with the old soldier's reputation. "I'd say that's about right." He nodded. "I'll get a hold of the captain of the _Araam_ as soon as I can."

Delor stared. "That was quick." If she'd brought forth this evidence, she would have been grilled for at least half an hour before they reached such an end.

"That's Sprag," Agara reminded her as he drew up behind her.

When they had the attention of the _Araam_'s captain, Sprag told the story of their discovery, in its entirety, with efficient but detailed precision. "Which leads us to believe they might have been taken to the moon Shasta Trinity. The records state that before we left, our aggressors expressed interest in taking us as slaves. There are no uniforms or other identifying marks on the corpses to suggest they came from anywhere else, and our past experiences with the pirates of this region does not suggest that this sort of stealthy, coordinated extraction was something they are capable of."

The _Yagangar_'s captain shook his head. "That's still a long shot."

"It's our only lead, sir," Sprag replied with a shrug. "I'm not suggesting we go in, guns blazing, and raze the place to the ground. Just a strike team to scope it out. And if we do have reason to believe they took our people, and that they might do it again, we bring them down."

Both captains were quiet for a long time.

Sprag's voice changed back to its old, familiar, clipped tone, and he said into the silence, "I would consider it, a personal favor, sir. Those boys saved my life."

The _Araam_'s captain sighed. "If it were anyone but you, Sprag…"

At the same time the _Yagangar_'s captain said, "Dammit, Sprag."

Delor grinned under her helmet. Their response was all the confirmation she needed.

/

Pirates!

As if they didn't have enough to worry about.

Their expensive quarian had wreaked absolute havoc on the base. Normally, this would not be a problem for cool-headed businessmen. So what if he was loose? He had nowhere to go, and he was hopelessly outnumbered. Fine, he freed the captives. They'd just have more to round up at the end of the day, and the boss had been sharp enough to immediately go for the doctor. Now they had a hostage. This would all be over soon.

Kal's initial assault had turned a mildly aggravating situation into a truly stressful one. At first the men had nearly panicked. If they were under genuine siege here, if their expensive quarian had called in serious reinforcements, then they were in trouble. The knowledge that, sometime earlier, Veetor'Nara had sent off a long-range signal only made them more nervous. Smith had quickly put an end to this. They could have their own reinforcements on the planet within a day. It would be fine.

When it became obvious that their assailant was only one quarian, relief had spread through the troops. Smith had been right. It was nothing to worry about. Instilled with pride for his ability to hold his men together and gratification now that he knew he was right, Smith had given the order to take Kal'Reegar out.

And then the sky had darkened with the passing of a ship, and the next minute their world had been filled with pirates and chaos.

Smith was still holding the men together, but they were up against some strong unknowns. They didn't know how the pirates had discovered them, what their motivations were, or how many were going to drop down and attack. They also didn't know how many hostiles they had in orbit. They were cut off from their leader, who was dealing with the quarians, and fighting what very well could have been a hopeless fight.

Smith had no intentions of letting them give up. "These are _pirates_. They're riffraff," he had shouted as he popped another thermal clip from his shotgun. "Don't underestimate them, but don't be afraid of them, either."

As such, by the time the turian arrived at the scene of the battle, the businessmen of Shasta Trinity had not quailed, but had held their own grimly, and the battle was not leaning noticeably in any one direction. One instant Smith had been catching his breath and watching his shield indicator returning to full, and the next, the boss was suddenly next to him. The cold fury in her blue eyes made him flinch. "Did you deal with the quarians?"

"Still working on it," she replied, "We have bigger problems." Her fingers worked rapidly over her pistol, and the holographic icon switched to the incendiary marker.

"So they're loose?" Smith shouted back over the hail of gunfire.

"For now."

Smith shrugged. She sounded like she had the problem under control, and he trusted her. "So what do we do now?"

She glanced to him. "We multitask."

/

The quarians focused on running. Occasionally they would have to stop and take cover, with Kal, Veetor, and the armed refugees to fend off anyone that took notice of them. Their main antagonists seemed to be the pirates, who were just attacking anything that didn't look like one of them, violently and indiscriminately. This meant that pirates were also attacking pirates, as the crews of several different ships had descended to the surface. The sight of such rampant infighting filled the tight-knit quarians with disgust, but this wild disorder also worked to their advantage. It seemed as if the businessmen had decided to focus on the bigger threat.

That had been exactly what Kal had hoped for. He peeked out from behind his current cover, nodded to the others, and led them on another dash. The gunship gleamed in the distance, dark and promising. Kal knew that they needed to get to it as fast as possible. It could be locked down, disabled in the struggle, or the businessmen could decide to take it and flee.

However, the longer the battle raged, the more obvious it became that their former captors were grimly determined to stay. Kal'Reegar didn't really care who won the fight as long as he got his people home. "Okay, looks like a long dash for the next cover. That rover there." He nodded. "Everyone try to keep to my right that's not armed. Veetor, I want you to be ready to sabotage anyone that notices us. If they can't fire, they can't hurt us. Everyone else lay down covering fire."

That had been more or less their plan. In a matter of moments, Kal had brought the quarians together to form something like a sloppy unit, and the more they practiced their hastily-assigned roles, the better they worked together. The former prisoners weren't terribly good shots, especially while running, but they created enough of a hazard to keep their foes more or less under cover.

Any enemy that they took by surprise, or got too close to them, soon fell prey to Veetor's Omni-tool, and then Kal's rifle. Kal was not only picking off hostiles and planning their route, though-he was doing his best to be everywhere at once, to put himself and his shields between every shot and every refugee. It was impossible to do, but so far, Kal had managed it.

It didn't escape Veetor's notice. Every time the soldier's shields sizzled, every time he ducked behind cover, panting with exertion, hurriedly and smoothly ejecting a thermal clip, Veetor was reminded that his gruff, somewhat socially awkward Kal was _this _underneath. This brave soldier. It was humbling. His mind only had time to note it before he was dragged back to the task at hand, which was staying alive.

They were close now. Kal's shields had been running low ever since they'd reached the halfway point. They were in the midst of the fighting now, and there was no time for them to regenerate. "Okay, this is it. The gunship's ahead. It's a long run, but we're going to make it. Everyone with a weapon, stick to the outsides. We're going to cover our unarmed men while they get into the ship, and then we're going to get the hell off this damn moon. I'll take point."

"Me, too," Veetor said.

"Veetor-"

"I'll be able to open the doors." Veetor said, raising his Omni-tool. "Wirelessly. So that we don't have to stop outside the ship."

Kal lowered his head, uncertain for a moment. He couldn't let his feelings get in the way of their mission. He wanted Veetor to be safe he wanted _all _of them to be safe but he also knew that Veetor had a point. If they could just charge into the ship, there might even be a small chance that they would go unnoticed.

"Okay. We're going to do this," Kal looked to the group. "Ready?"

A chorus of nods.

"Now!"

As they began to run, and Kal continued to pant, a strange smell entered his helmet. It was oddly musty, and it clung to the roof of the soldier's mouth. It was only then that he realized he was breathing in unfiltered air. He pushed the thought out of his mind and just kept running.

/

Smith had known that, in addition to being a shrewd businesswoman, his boss was an accomplished fighter, but he'd never seen her ruthlessness in action. She was cold and carefully decisive, a sharp contrast to the fire of the pirates' bloodlust. They charged her, and were shot down. They threw grenades, and suddenly she was somewhere else, and before they could even see her they were dead. Among cover, in command of the situation, she was deadlier with her lone pistol than many of these men were with their rifles.

Smith only caught glimpses of her during the fight. She was moving across the battlefield purposefully, apparently to some goal he didn't understand. Before he lost sight of her for the last time that day, he nodded and silently wished her luck.

If he had called this out to her, she would have replied, "I don't need luck. I _need _a missile launcher."

Every pirate she felled, she searched. Eventually she found what she was looking for. A pirate was engaging one of her men, and strapped to his back was the tell-tale shape of a ML-77 Missile Launcher. She vaulted over the cover between them, and the pirate turned to face her. Point-blank, she shot the unshielded man in the face with her pistol, very messily ending his life.

Her soldier approached, and as she rolled the pirate over, liberating him of his weapon. "Ma'am "

"Cover me," she snapped, quickly scanning the area. She began to clamber up onto the highest available cover, while her soldier hastily followed, shouting a warning. The turian's pale eyes narrowed and she peered through the chaos, looking for the tell-tale red of _there._

The quarians were running across the landing strip, straight for the gunship they'd arrived on. She hoisted the missile launcher and carefully took aim.

/

The first shot knocked the quarians leading the charge clean over, even though it wasn't aimed at them. Kal went sprawling, as did Veetor and two of the armed quarians leading the charge. It was only by sheer luck that they hadn't been struck down by shrapnel. Kal immediately was on his feet again, looking wildly for the source of the shot-as another explosion bloomed against the side of the gunship.

Kal looked back to the battle raging outside the facility. He could see her, standing and exposed on top of one of the rovers. As he watched, she fired again. He thought to himself, as the missile streaked towards the damaged gunship, that he should have killed her when he had the chance. She couldn't ask for a better place to get sniped, but it was too late, there was no _time_ "Back, back, everyone _back!" _He tried to push the others behind him.

The third shot finished the job. The gunship ruptured and exploded, sending chunks of white-hot shrapnel whizzing through the air. Kal stood at the head of the huddled group, lowered his damaged helmet as the air filled with hissing projectiles. His shields flickered and went out.

And then it was over.

/

The turian had begun to clamber down when she shot knocked her off her feet. She made no sound as she fell over, no sound as she hit the ground. She only gritted her teeth, standing as blue blood spurted unchecked from the horrific wound the sniper's round had torn in her shoulder. The soldier accompanying her waved his Omni-tool, and almost immediately the medi-gel was dispensed. The bleeding stopped, as did the pain.

"What now, ma'am?"

"We take care of this pirate scum. The quarians have nowhere to go. We'll collect them later." She took a deep breath and passed the rocket launcher to him, once more drawing her favored pistol. They couldn't afford for her to sit this one out, wounded or not. It was going to be a long day.

/

With nowhere else to run, Kal had ordered a retreat for the treeline. They would gain nothing by staying here in the heat of battle. Each second they lingered was another chance that the refugees would be injured or killed. He didn't know what they were going to do next, but finding a safe place to bunker down would give him time to think. He was organizing the retreat when he was hit.

The shot that took down Kal'Reegar hadn't even been meant for him. It was simply a stray bullet, fired somewhere far-off, that plunged through the quarian's back and hissed out of his right midsection, leaving a neat pea-shaped hole. Kal stumbled, and a spray of blood accompanied the motion.

He kept running, covering their tracks as they plunged into the forest, and only when they'd skidded to a ragged stop did he reach up to apply the medi-gel with his Omni-tool.

Veetor noticed immediately. "Kal!"

"I'll be fine," Kal'Reegar said, but he knew how hopeless their situation was. Their only escape had been cut off. What were they to do now? His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp hiss of bullets. The trees around him began to take hits, sending off thin splinters into the air. He looked over his shoulder. "We have to move. Go!"

The quarians retreated further into the forest.

/

Approximately five seconds after the gunship exploded, and several moments before Kal'Reegar was shot, Delor'Shaal was excitedly shaking Sprag's shoulder. "That's a transmission!"

A sleek scouting vessel had been granted to scope out Shasta Trinity, crewed by a few dedicated quarians. They were instructed strictly not to land, and to retreat at the slightest hint of detection. They'd been heading for the moon for nearly eight hours now. Eight hours of silence, eight hours of anticipation and self-doubt.

And then they'd received a message on the channel the quarians had been using for inter-ship communication. The message had been a simple set of coordinates ending with a standard quarian code phrase. The scout vessel had been forced to contact both the _Araam_ and the _Yagangar_ for the code phrase's validity, and the _Araam _had confirmed that it had been issued to Veetor'Nara. It was a pilgrimage code phrase for a successful return. In response to this irrefutable evidence, the _Yagangar_ would be joining them, as well as another escort ship.

They had been right. That alone filled Delor with joy, but the knowledge that Veetor and Kal were apparently safe, and going to meet them, made her absolutely ecstatic. This buoyed her as they traveled the distance to the coordinates, even as the hours passed by. As soon as they arrived at the rendezvous coordinates, however, they noticed something wrong. There was nobody there. Resolutely, they waited. And waited.

The silence was finally broken by one of the techs. "Whoah."

Delor leaned over. Sprag looked up from his own console.

"We are getting some serious activity out there. Long-range." The tech began to type furiously. "I'm not getting any kind of markers from these guys."

"Pirates," Sprag said shortly. He has slipped into that calm, smooth-talking alternate persona since the trip began.

"Probably." The tech paused, and then quietly added, "Judging by these vectors… I'd have to say it's likely they're heading for the same place we were."

Delor's stomach lurched. "Shasta Trinity?"

The tech nodded. For a moment nobody said anything. Sprag finally broke the silence. "We stay here."

"But, Sprag-"

"The fleet's already sent some ships to accompany us. If they are still down there, we can't take on all these other vessels on our own. We have to assume they're the enemy." He paused, and looked to Delor. The smoothness dropped out of his voice, and he once again sounded like the quirkly old man she'd come to know on the _Kildeira_. "Besides, if they come here, and we _ain't _here, what'll happen to them then?"

Delor lowered her head. "I-"

She never got to finish her sentence. In that instant, the comm light on their tech's panel lit up with a beep. "Someone's hailing us." What he said was not, "Holy fuck." It was the quarian equivalent of such a phrase, and it was actually several words longer and involved a clever cultural metaphor. But, had any human been standing in the cockpit with him, they would have heard, through their translator, two simple words.

"Holy _fuck."_

/

Night had fallen before the quarians were able to stop. They were all exhausted. As they'd left the battle, a few pirate stragglers had followed, but soon the skirmish had escalated to the point where nobody even cared about the escaped quarians anymore. They had to focus on destroying each other.

Kal'Reegar sank slowly to his knees, gasping. Veetor was immediately at his side. Kal had faded over the course of the day, and watching it had slowly torn Veetor apart inside. The soldier had struggled to even walk during the last few hours of their retreat, and it seemed that the last of his endurance had finally been robbed of him. The wound, the suit puncture, and his helmet's broken filter were destroying him from the inside. His skin was blazing with fever under his suit, and he was so dizzy that every other step was a mis-step.

"Kal, lie down." Veetor guided him gently onto his back and waved his Omni-tool over him again, dispensing more medi-gel. He didn't know how effective it would be. Kal couldn't even speak. As soon as he hit the ground, his exhausted, abused form gave a shudder, and he seemed to lose consciousness. Veetor remained at the soldier's side, simply staring at him, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

It belonged to Elan. She didn't say anything to Veetor, because she had no genuine encouragement she could offer. They had all reached the end of the line, and they knew it. Veetor brought his hand up to cover hers, showing how he appreciated her support, and returned to Kal. The doctor turned to the remaining quarians and got them settled. The best she could do for Veetor, for any of them now, was to keep everyone together.

The night deepened. They had nothing to eat or drink, so they simply slept in shifts. At least they would know if someone approached to collect or kill them. Veetor didn't stray from Kal's side, and nobody drew him away. The twitchy quarian had done a lot for all of them. He deserved to be by this man's side in his final hours. Nobody knew exactly what Kal was to Veetor, but it didn't matter to them. He meant enough. That much was clear.

Veetor said nothing for a very long time. Finally, several hours after they'd stopped, he moved. He put his hand on Kal'Reegar's chest. He could barely feel the other's heartbeat through the layers of his envirosuit, but the steady throb was there. Veetor kept his hand in place, as if willing the beat to continue by sheer force of will alone. "Kal."

For a long time, he didn't say anything else. He just remained there. Then, softly, "Don't go. Please don't go." Veetor began to speak rapidly now, words tumbling from him recklessly. "I _do_ need you. I do, Kal. I-I don't need you like I needed Elan." He lowered his head. "But I still do."

Kal had given everything for his people. He had given everything for Veetor. From the very first moment that Veetor had met him, Kal had been strong, and dedicated, but most of all he had been good. He was rough around the edges, nobody could dispute that, but he was a genuine and pure man underneath it. Veetor treasured that purity and the man that surrounded it, rough edges and all. He treasured _Kal_, for more reasons than he could explain or understand.

To his astonishment, Kal proved that he was not, in fact, unconscious, by raising his hand and covering Veetor's with it. The simple gesture broke Veetor's heart. Tremulously, Veetor said, "Please don't go. _Please_."

He said, "I love you, Kal."

The soldier blinked slowly under his helmet, and made a low sound, but couldn't reply. Every breathe was a hoarse wheeze as Kal's lungs recoiled from the vile, diseased air. Veetor held his hand and said nothing else. The night passed, but he barely noticed it. Kal'Reegar eventually drifted off again, but Veetor didn't sleep. He simply watched Kal, as if it would keep the other from slipping away and succumbing to exhaustion and sickness. Around them, cottony puffs drifted down as the trees released their seeds, settling onto the ground like the ghosts of snow.

Elan watched Veetor. The last of the chemical haze was being cleansed from her body. She scarcely recognized him. His bearing, his manner, all of it had changed. Even now, devastated as he clearly was, there was strength in him that she hadn't seen before. There was also love. She visited him one last time before she went to sleep. "Veetor."

He looked to her, briefly, and then back to Kal. "I'm glad you're okay, Elan." He said softly. She didn't doubt that he was sincere, even though his voice was weak with grief.

"You came for me." She shook her head. "You saved me, Veetor. And Kal'Reegar, to," she placed her hand beside his, over the soldier's heart. "You both saved all of us."

Veetor did look up then. He turned to Elan, and then slowly back to the camp. Some of the quarians were staring at him, but most were asleep by now. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think, or to feel. His entire body was numb with exhaustion and sadness. "I…"

"No matter what happens next," Elan said softly, "I won't forget what the two of you did for us. None of us will." She moved her hand to Veetor's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Veetor closed his eyes. It didn't matter if he was half-crazed with fear, or half-crazed with grief. It didn't matter if he was huddling in the corner of a medical ward, babbling, or sitting on the ground of a distant moon named Shasta Trinity mourning the man he loved. Elan'Shiya always knew what to say to him. She always knew how to inject a little more courage into his heart. "Thank you." He whispered.

"Thank you," was her reply. She nodded, added, "Good night, Veetor," and left to join the others.

Veetor didn't move, and when dawn arrived, Veetor regarded it numbly. A white static haze had settled over his mind. Kal was breathing deeply and evenly, asleep. Veetor looked up and watched the pale light filtering through the trees. The air was speckled with falling seeds.

Four armed men were approaching them.

The sentries stood and rallied the remaining refugees. Veetor looked up, but did not stand.

The battle had been won, and the businessmen of Shasta Trinity had prevailed. The guard detail was battered, but still clearly lethal. They had been scouring the woods since midnight looking for their quarry. "Okay, quarians. It's real simple. You resist, and you'll die. You don't want to die, right? So, just stand up and we'll take you back."

The refugees had little choice. They looked around helplessly, unsure what to do. They didn't want to go back they most _emphatically_ didn't want to go back but if they resisted they'd clearly be shot down here. Veetor looked over his shoulder. He recognized their confusion and their fear. Someone had to make the first move. Someone had to show them the way. Even if they'd lost, even if their gamble had not paid off, they still needed someone to lead them, someone to draw strength from.

Veetor stood. "We should do what he says," the quarian said quietly. He looked back to them, hoping they'd understand. As long as they were alive, they had hope. If they died here, it was the end of everything. But if they survived, maybe…

The refugees nodded, and the soldiers moved in to divest them of their weapons. One of them was staring oddly at Veetor, who met his gaze with blank defiance. The man moved in and pulled Veetor away from the group to restrain him. He didn't flinch from the rough handling he received. He didn't fear these men. There was nothing left for him to fear.

He thought that right up until one of them knelt by Kal. "This one's done for. You wanna just leave him?" He looked up to one of his superiors.

The last spark of energy Veetor had left flared in him. "No," he croaked.

A second soldier shook his head as the first pulled Kal'Reegar up. Kal weakly tried to stand, struggled in impotent aggression against his enemy. "The boss might want him for his implants."

"_I _don't wanna deal with him." Even though Kal was weakened, his struggles were still threatening to throw the soldier off-balance.

The man holding Veetor snapped, annoyed, "Then just put him down and we'll drag him back. It's not rocket science, dammit."

Veetor's body was seized by a paroxysm of anger and grief. Veetor had thought he had nothing emotionally left to give, but clearly he'd been wrong. "No! _No!_ Kal!"

The soldier holding him cursed and shifted to get a better hold of Veetor, but he couldn't hook his arm around the quarian's neck. Veetor was struggling too hard. "Someone get me a tranq! We _need_ this one."

The soldier shrugged and dropped Kal. If Smith had been with them, he would have angrily insisted that they take Kal alive. Veetor's reaction clearly indicated that this man was dear enough to him to be used as a guarantee for good behavior. Besides, the boss would probably want to know exactly how these two had planned everything out. Smith wasn't there, though, and none of the gathered grunts had the insight to think of any reason to spare Kal'Reegar. He drew his pistol and aimed it at the marine's head.

"_Kal!" _

The enemy soldier vanished.

Veetor blinked. One moment he'd been standing there, and then-he glanced around wildly, and saw the man's body, crumpled at the foot of a tree. He wasn't moving. He hadn't seemed to occupy the space between where he'd been standing and where he'd landed. What had…?

He felt a force, like an angry wind, brush across his back, and he was yanked to the side. The soldier behind him had been flung, and dragged Veetor a few feet before whatever force had him pulled him away. He screamed once. There was a crack, and the silence.

Stunned, the soldiers turned. There was a woman striding into the clearing. Her body was covered with a thin blue veil, and underneath the shifting biotic aura, her mostly-bare skin was strangely patterned. She was beautiful, but the smile on her face was one of absolute predatory glee.

She cracked her knuckles and cheerfully said, "Hello, _dead people."_

**Closing note: **The conifer seeds are actually distributed in this fashion:

The fluff extends between the teeth of the cone, and when it catches the breeze, it pulls the seed out. As the seen begins to spin, it flings the fluff away, and, not weighed down, the fluff can float for miles if caught in a strong breeze. Unripe seeds (like the one Delor found) are often continually pulled airborne, and, providing they can survive the elements and hungry seed-eating beasts, often find a suitable place to root before they lose their fluff.

The fluff is actually discarded rather violently on fully mature seeds, giving the illusion of explosion. The fluff is preferred nesting material for several species of interstellar birds.

I actually thought hard about this goddamned seed but didn't have anywhere in the story to fully explain it. Jeez wheez I'm a dork.


	13. Seventh Inning Stretch

Author's note: A bit late! My apologies. I had to write for several characters I have never written for, and I wanted to be sure to get them right. A lot of YouTube videos went into their few lines and actions.

Also, those horrible, horrible people at A CERTAIN MEME keep making me write stories. Curse you! All of you!

**/Chapter 12 - Seventh-Inning Stretch**

"It ain't over 'til it's over."

-Lawrence Peter "Yogi" Berra

Their savior vanished almost as suddenly as she had appeared.

One moment she was standing there, and the next she'd unleashed a shitstorm of frenetic biotic energy that had tossed another man like a rag doll, and then the next she was gone, pursuing the remaining soldiers into the woods, because they were running, and running _fast_ by then. Veetor blinked, watching them go and shakily uncertain as to what had just happened.

"Veetor!"

The familiar voice startled him and he turned to stare incredulously at its source, which was jogging towards him. "Tali?"

"That… damn woman," she huffed, "Just charged ahead." Tali shook her head and continued speaking, rapidly and urgently. "They have reinforcements coming after you. We need to move." When Veetor just continued to stare blankly at her, her tone became less brisk and much more gentle. "Veetor, I'll explain when we clear these woods. But for now we need to go."

Veetor nodded. His mind was slowly sinking into its old incoherent state, thoughts disassociating themselves from one another and drifting freely in the thickening haze of his consciousness. He was not the same quarian that Tali had met on Freedom's Progress, but even now he could only take so much. "Kal…"

Only then did Tali glance at his feet, and even so it took her a few moments to recognize the shape she saw there. "Oh, no," she knelt by him. "Reegar…"

"He's still alive." Veetor crouched as well. "But he's very sick."

"I know someone who can help him. I'll-" she paused, and reached up to the side of her helmet. "No. We have him," she said, and Veetor stared, confused, before he understood that she was speaking to someone through the communicator built into her helmet. Tali paused. "Yes, I realize that, but I need you to stay where you _are_ and cover us." Another pause. "Okay. And see if you can't find Jack? She turned her-okay."

Veetor didn't have time to ask who she was speaking to. Tali helped Veetor hoist Kal to his feet, and the twitchy quarian saw Elan emerge from the corner of his vision. She silently took Tali's place. Veetor swallowed hard, caught between silent, powerful gratitude for Elan's presence and strength, and heart-wrenching worry for Kal'Reegar. The soldier weakly stumbled between them. Kal's fingers tightened on Veetor's shoulder, and Veetor took it as a good sign.

Tali took the lead, shotgun at the ready, and they proceeded as quickly as they were able. Every now and then she'd check with her unseen assistant, and once she called for a halt. She peered through the trees, and, following her gaze, Veetor saw the strangely-colored woman returning.

"Hey," Jack said nonchalantly.

Tali spoke, and Veetor was startled by the anger in her voice. "I was wondering when you'd decided to join us." She shook her head. "You _left_ them, Jack. What if they'd gotten caught in the crossfire? Be more careful with my people next time!"

The human woman's eyes flickered dangerously. She stepped forward. "Look here, _princess_," she jabbed a finger at Tali's chest. "I didn't come to play rescue with the rest of you. I came here to do what I do best, and I _did_ it."

Tali's shoulders hunched very slightly, but that was the only sign she gave that she was intimidated by this obviously dangerous person. The two women stood off, neither willing to back down. Tali probably would have given in first in the interest of quickly getting her people to safety, but before she did, a high-pitched whine split the air. It was followed by a zipping sound. A tree immediately to Jack's right sent a shower of small splinters into the air as a sizeable chunk of it was obliterated by a round from an unseen rifle.

Veetor began to look back and forth frantically for the source of the explosion, but neither Jack nor Tali seemed concerned. Jack turned in the general direction of the shot and held up two fists, very, very slowly raising the middle of her curious five fingers on each hand.

"Wh-what was that?" Veetor asked. He was surprised by how strained his voice was. He was trembling-when had that happened? The disconnection between his mind and body caught him off-guard. He'd been holding it together so long, but he had clearly pushed himself to his limit. He was tired. He was scared. His fingers tightened against Kal's armor.

He just wanted to be safe somewhere with the people he loved. This was all too much for him…

"I'm sorry, Veetor, but I don't have time to explain," Tali had to know how close Veetor was to breaking down. He saw her helmet shift slightly towards Kal, and then she nodded, "We need to move." As she turned, something apparently startled her, because she reached up to the side of her helmet again. "Yes?" A pause. "Yes. I_ know_." Another, longer pause. She looked to the assembled quarians, her expression unreadable beyond her visor.

She took a deep breath, and finally said, "I think… we might have to." Much more softly, she added, "He does not look good. Okay. I'll talk to them. Hurry." And she pulled her hand away. "That was our sniper. I-he's going to come and help us move him." She nodded to Kal'Reegar. "He could easily carry Kal."

Jack's expression broke into a discomfortingly sadistic grin. "Oh, you guys are going to like _him_."

Tali took a deep breath. "He will be here soon. I need to let you know, before he arrives-just don't… ah, Keelah." She fidgeted, unsure how to say what she needed to. "Just don't panic, okay?"

/

The previous night had been eventful for everyone.

The battle had raged on as the quarians fled, climaxing in a showdown at dusk. The captain of the largest pirate vessel had come down to fight, apparently believing his presence was potent enough to turn the tide. He was right. The captain was a particularly nasty krogan biotic. He ripped his way through the ranks of the businessmen and his rival pirates without hesitation until the turian leader of the Shasta Trinity syndicate had engaged him.

Their battle began at a distance. Biotic fields flickered around him and whip cracked from his hands, and she calmly and coolly emptied shot after shot into the krogan's shields. As they grew closer, she swapped her sniper rifle for her favored pistol. The battle began to surge around them, spiraling away from their struggle like the arms of a miniature galaxy of violence. She pitted her stealth and speed against his raw strength. By the time they were in each other's faces, both were wounded and exhausted.

Still they circled, coming together, breaking apart. Air-rending energy rippled from him. She spat bullets. They fought and fought as the sky above darkened, mere flotsam caught in the maelstrom of their own dedicated hatred.

Perhaps she had been saving the incendiary grenade, but likely she had simply forgotten it was there until he threw her and she landed painfully on it. She reached behind her, unable to immediately rise as he came for her, pulling the grenade out of where it had been strapped to the small of her back, and threw it with unerring precision-or so it seemed. She had actually just been chucking it any direction she could, and the krogan was an unfortunately (for him) large target.

The krogan, wounded, exhausted, furious, and _on fire_, charged her blindly. She only had time to fire a wild shot into his stomach before he was on her, and he collapsed, dying in midair, only to slam into her and knock her roughly to the ground. Nobody moved as she extricated herself, hissing in pain. Her armor and her face-plates were scorched, and she was spattered with the blood of others as well as her own bright blue blood, from various injuries hours-old or fresh. She retched once, powerfully, and finally lost consciousness. Before the pirates could close in, her men were covering her, and Smith personally dragged her away from the site of the battle.

He did what he could with medi-gel, but had little time to tend to her, because the fighting began anew. For an hour they had fought, their numbers depleted, but their resolve strengthened by the narrow victory of their leader. As it happened, that resolve was all it took, because their reinforcements arrived ahead of schedule, dropping fresh troops to aid the businessmen's cause. Smith had ordered his leader up into the medical bay of the lead ship (there were two of them circling the planet now). She had done enough on the ground.

The pirates seemed broken at last. The arrival of orbital support was a danger to many of their escape routes, and so, around midnight, they began to dwindle and finally retreat. Smith had taken temporary command of ground operations, and the first thing he did was send a party out for their escaped merchandise. "That damn quarian," he'd said through gritted teeth, "had better be worth it."

He waited only long enough to get confirmation that their leader, aboard one of their vessels known as the _Yazata_. She was stable, and would likely be returned planetside by noon tomorrow. They had also sent a message to Veetor's would-be buyers, warning them of the current hazardous situation. No response had been returned, but from what Smith had seen of their clients, he was inclined to believe they would stay fastidiously away until they were sure all of the riffraff had been cleared away.

Despite the carnage and the resources lost in the impromptu ambush, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. In the Terminus systems, operations like the one his leader spearheaded, for all their personal success, were considered small-time. Mercenary groups held the real power here, and though it wasn't entirely unpleasant to operate so far under the radar, it certainly put limits on how far they could expand their power.

But here, tonight, they had proven that they were a force to be reckoned with. Maybe they weren't as feared and known as the Blue Suns or the Blood Pack, but they were a step above the common criminal riffraff. Smith felt like their organization was going somewhere, and watching the pirates scurry away, their tails between their legs, had been especially gratifying. He was, of course, blissfully unaware of the real reason most of them were leaving in such a hurry.

Thought the Shasta Trinity syndicate's reinforcements had ended the battle, they hadn't been the cause of most of the pirate fleet's departure. Not entirely.

A vessel was approaching Shasta Trinity. It was state-of-the-art, stealthy, and wholly deadly to any and all who opposed it. Impervious to sensors, the only way any warning of its approach could be spread was by first-hand contact and word-of-mouth. In the end, the fellowship for which the businessmen's turian leader had so scorned the pirates spared them from the righteous onslaught that the ghost-like craft was about to unleash. They might have been a disorganized, dysfunctional bunch, but they could all agree that they would rather share each others' company than be in the same star system as the vessel that was rumored to be approaching.

Shortly before dawn, the _Normandy_ entered orbit. Things went downhill from there.

/

When a tall grey-blue geth stepped out of the woods and into view, the quarians predictably panicked.

Tali went into action immediately. Most of them knew who she was, and some of them had even met her, so it didn't take her terribly long to restore order. "I know what this looks like," she said, "but please just trust me on this. I'll explain everything later, but now, we need to get everyone to safety." On this point, everyone could agree. Somewhat satisfied, Tali turned to address her synthetic teammate, who had, in the interim, drawn up very close behind her. Startled by the unexpected proximity, she jumped. "Legion!"

"Yes, Tali'Zorah?" If the sight of the geth had alarmed the quarians, hearing it speak had left them plainly flabbergasted.

"I didn't-you just-look," she quickly gained control of her facilities and said, "Come with me."

Veetor watched them both approach dumbly, still holding Kal upright. Elan was looking just as nervous, but held her ground, as well. "That's a geth," Veetor finally said. His voice came out unexpectedly breathless and faint, as if he didn't have enough air left in him to speak. He tried to breathe in, but his lungs frantically pushed the air back, forcing him to pant shallowly.

"Yes, Veetor," Tali replied patiently, doing what she could to calm him. "This is Legion. It is…" she looked briefly to the geth, who was mutely studying Veetor, Elan, and Kal in turn. "It is here to help us right now. Legion can carry Kal. We'll be able to get back to the _Normandy_ much faster that way."

Veetor didn't respond. He just remained there, frozen. "Veetor," Elan finally said, and her words seem to break his trance, slow his breath.

"I don't…" Veetor gasped.

"We will not harm him." Legion said, startling Veetor so much that he jumped. Tali seemed a little surprised, too, but didn't add anything. The geth silently collapsed its ridiculously huge sniper rifle and affixed the weapon to its back. Then it knelt and offered its arms.

Transferring Kal was an awkward business, but in the end, Legion held Kal'Reegar as easily as if he were a child. Somehow, the sight of the machine on one knee before the quarians had comforted the refugees a bit. Veetor released Kal reluctantly, tenderness evident in his movements, and he stuck close to the geth once Kal was settled limply in its arms.

"Please," he whispered, "_Please_ don't go, Kal."

"Jack," Tali looked to the human. "Legion can't cover us, so I'm going to need you to stay close and make sure we don't take any heavy fire." The human woman had been staring at the two quarians the entire time, and as Veetor glanced over, he saw an odd expression on her fierce face. She didn't reply. "Jack?" Tali asked.

Jack slowly slid her gaze over to Tali. "Sure," she said simply, but Veetor had the feeling that something significant had just happened. For a moment she locked eyes with him, and the power of the emotion in those brown depths sent a shiver down Veetor's spine.

They were on the move again, settling into a steady jog. True to her word, Jack stuck close to them, a biotic field shimmering over her skin as she ran. The bright blue glow was a beacon, a dare for anyone to come close. Legion moved with a smoothness and speed that no organic could match, carefully cradling the wounded marine. Veetor knew it was for the best, but he still stuck anxiously close. His mind, overtaxed with the stress of command and circumstance, finally had only a simple task to concentrate on, and that was running, so he ran, grateful for the burden to have been lifted from his shoulders.

It had taken the quarians almost all night to reach their impromptu campsite, running pell-mell without direction through the forest, occasionally stopping to take cover or fire at their pursuers, which were now only a sad lot scattered in disarray among the trees. Tali led them in a straight line back to the base in shortly over an hour. They didn't run into any trouble until the building was in sight. Fighting had broken out all around it, and a group of Shasta Trinity businessmen were huddled behind some hastily-erected cover-a crate of some variety, and what looked like a rover door-with their backs to the approaching refugees.

Before anyone could even speak Jack unleashed a shockwave of pure biotic energy. The men went flying, and Veetor didn't even see where they landed. He skidded to a stop, his mind struggling to comprehend the unthinkable power of the spectacle he'd witnessed, but Jack was doing it again, flinging the crate towards the general direction of more gunfire. It hurtled through the air, a particularly effective (if impromptu) projectile. The rover door tipped over and hit the ground with a muffled thump.

As if it had been a signal, she was gone, disappearing into the heart of the battle with a bloodthirsty yell. The refugees stood watching at the edge of the carnage. "Well," Tali finally broke the silence, "That was good. For Jack."

In Legion's arms, Kal stirred, and Veetor heard him weakly murmuring, "Th' hell?" Immediately the twitchy quarian was at his side, reaching up to touch Kal's arm reassuringly.

"You will need to carry him now," Veetor looked up sharply into the expressionless glowing eye of the geth. "We need to secure your passage."

"Oh. Okay." It felt so strange to simply be talking to a geth like this-civilly, even!-but taking care of Kal was more important than any deep analysis of the situation. Legion helped shift Kal back into position between Elan and Veetor while the geth once again armed itself. Veetor tensed, along with the rest of the crew, ready to spring across the battlefield. Suddenly Tali jerked and stood up straight, reaching to the side of her helmet. She listened for a moment, nodded, and looked to the refugees. "Change of plans. Everyone stay put. They're going to bring a shuttle around."

Legion crouched and began to methodically shoot into the carnage without further word. Each time it fired, a little more of the gunfire ceased. The refugees were far enough away from the battle that they didn't have much to worry about, and in any case, Tali and Legion settled into place and continued covering them. A low trapezoidal shape suddenly swung into view over the building before them, moving boldly over the structure. Nobody even attempted to fire at it.

It swung down as close to the tree line was it was able. The quarians still had to cross a bit of open ground to get to it, but they were soon in the comfortingly dark interior. Tali didn't enter, but instead spoke through the hatch, "Miranda! Where is Dr. Solus?"

A human woman leaned out of the cockpit. She was uncommonly pretty, pale with blue eyes and long dark hair. She looked vaguely familiar to Veetor, but he couldn't place her face. He didn't linger too long on the thought, deigning instead to help Elan lay Kal down on one of the two rows of seats. The refugees respectfully stood nearby. "He's holding out on the other side of the facility," her accented voice was familiar, too. It nagged at Veetor. "Why?"

"Kal'reegar-him-" Tali pointed to the soldier, "is very sick."

Miranda looked to the quarians, but at her angle she couldn't quite see Kal. She simply nodded. "I'll radio him."

There was a palpable tension in the air between the two women, and Tali finally said, "Thank you," which effectively broke it. She turned to the quarians in the shuttle. "I'll join you later this is all settled. You're all safe now."

Before she hopped out of the hatch to fight, Veetor heard one of the refugees call out, "Keela se'lai!" In an instant, everyone else had taken up the cry, and a ragged chorus of benedictions accompanied Tali as she settled on the ground.

"Keelah se'lai," Veetor echoed. Then he said, softly, "Thank you, Tali," before the hatch shut and they were spirited off the surface of Shasta Trinity.

/

Thane Krios's comm beeped insistently, but the assassin didn't even flinch. He simply calmly held his position, watching as the armed man several feet below him inched slowly towards the end of the crate. Thane himself was perched in a smashed-open window on the second floor of the main building. Mordin was dishing out a fair amount of pain down there, and thus divided between several targets, he couldn't possibly have noticed the figure preparing to take a shot at him from behind.

Thane waited. The man finally stood, putting himself squarely in the assassin's sights. There was a muffled crack, and the man fell. Mordin hadn't even seen him die. The salarian was still occupied with the hostiles before him, drawing their fire. In a sudden flash of silvery light, a slim hooded figure appeared, striking one of them from behind. As they turned to face this new threat, Mordin unleashed a fiery inferno on them.

Kasumi ran back to cover amidst the screams. Thane was standing now, listening quietly to the message. After a few moments, he replied to the unseen speaker, "Very well. I'll send him at once." A few deft movements of the drell's fingers called up Mordin's communication device.

Or it should have, but there was no response. Thane frowned. Under other circumstances, he might have been worried that something had happened to the doctor, but he could see Mordin Solus clearly from his vantage point, helping Kasumi mop up the last of the resistance in the courtyard below him. Without another word, knowing that speed was of the essence, Thane melted fluidly into the shadows around him.

/

Down below, Kasumi Goto stood with her arms crossed, watching an armed businessman tumbling to the ground, dead and still burning. "Remind me never to get on your bad side," she said.

"Dr. Solus."

"Jeez!" Kasumi had leaped almost a full foot in the air at the unexpected grating of Thane's voice. Mordin appeared surprised, rather than startled, to find Thane behind him.

"Yes?" The salarian asked quickly.

"I have just received word from Miss Lawson that you are needed aboard the Normandy to attend to an ill quarian-"

Kasumi felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Oh no, not Tali?" The thief had a soft spot for the Normandy's resident genius engineer.

"Unlikely. Tali'Zorah well-equipped to handle current situation. Suit is to spec for battle, and she is well-trained as well as backed up by Legion and Jack. Sick implies a lingering injury rather than a recent wound." Mordin was speaking in rapid-fire stilted threads of thought, flinging them out at the helplessly blinking human and the shell-shocked drell, who had never been allowed to finish his sentence. "No, much more likely to-the prisoners. They have recovered them. We must make haste," Mordin turned and at once began to move over the ruined scene of the battlefield. "Quarian illnesses problematic," he concluded.

Kasumi nodded and fell into step behind them. The various ground teams had cleared out most of the resistance. These people were slowly losing their will to fight. Their numbers had been decimated, but that didn't count the two ships in orbit that had fled on the Normandy's approach. Nobody knew yet what kind of operation this was, but one thing was for sure: these people were determined. She grinned suddenly. "Allow me to escort you, sir," she said, drawing up beside Mordin with the air of a girl scout offering to help an elderly man across the street. Then she vanished in a flicker of light.

Thane smiled faintly. "We will clear your path." And then he, too, vanished, though in a manner that was much less hi-tech and a lot less flashy than their thief companion's.

/

Jacob Taylor had fired two shots before everyone in the garage had surrendered.

Not that he was complaining, of course. He and his teammates had been holding the area near the landing strip until Tali, Legion and Jack had returned. That had given his team enough time to head into the makeshift garage before the hostiles that had fled there had a chance to truly bunker down. Needless to say, after hours of relentless fighting, he'd been ready for anything-or he thought he had.

It had been easier than he expected, but he still wasn't sure exactly what had made their foes' minds up for them. Maybe it had been the fact that the two shots he'd fired had taken out a particularly imposing batarian soldier. Jacob knew that, in a fight, one had to pick off the biggest and baddest-looking first. Sometimes that ended a struggle before it even began. It had worked in the past, but somehow he didn't think that it had been the deciding factor of this non-battle.

Zaeed had caused quite a stir upon his arrival. One or two of their enemies, scattered as they were among the few parked rovers and crates of who-knew-what, had cried out his name in dismayed recognition. Zaeed had not smiled. His expression hadn't really changed much at all. He was probably used to people exclaiming, "Oh, shit, it's Zaeed Massani!" Though an impressive and gratifying reaction, Jacob didn't think that had been the final straw, either.

Jacob would have put his money on the moment that the uncertain, burgeoning battle turned into a peaceful round-up had been when Samara strode in, her face as calm as it had ever been, her body surrounded by a gently-glowing biotic aura. She had halted beside her companions, and from somewhere near the back of the garage, an asari in armor had called, simply, "Justicar!"

The next instant weapons were dropped and hands were raised.

Zaeed gave an explosive snort . "Wish they were _all_ that easy." There was, despite his words, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

Jacob shook his head and looked to Samara, whose serene expression had not wavered in the slightest. The human reached up to tap his comm device. "We've secured the garage, Commander." There was a pause as he waited, listening to his superior's response. He nodded. "Roger that."

"What'd she say?" Zaeed asked. Despite the obvious surrender, he hadn't lowered his weapon.

"Apparently they've pinned down the leader."

"He will have much to answer for." Samara said softly.

"Damn right he will," Zaeed replied, "This one's personal."

/

Smith was staring at a woman.

She was human, and had only recently removed her helmet. She was plain, with somewhat forgettable features, rather like Smith in that respect. Her hair was sort of reddish, and there was a faint tracery of something like scars on her left cheek, but other than that, she was unremarkable. She had a benign expression on her face, and was speaking. "Look, you people have to learn to stay out of trouble. You can't go kidnapping innocent people. It makes Garrus nervous."

A particularly large and intimidating turian stood behind her. He nodded, and with a mock-grave air, said, "It's true."

"And when Garrus gets nervous, he starts shooting people, and-trust me, it's just a huge mess." She went on, clearly enjoying herself.

Smith glared at her. It had all happened so quickly that his mind was still running through the procedures that his commander had burned into his brain. There were records to be purged, accounts to lock down. She never expected their operation to be attacked by anyone thorough enough to make use of those things-they were, after all, a small operation, but she was a turian, so she had prepared for just about everything. There had been no time to perform just about any of those carefully-prepared tasks, though. They were slowly fading out of his mind as he reconciled what was planned with what had happened, but still cycling through, like a vehicle with too much momentum to stop. It was over, but it couldn't be over. Not yet…

"So," the human woman continued, her playful tone never once lifting, "are you going to tell me what the hell you were _thinking, _or are we going to have to do this the hard way?"

Beside the turian, a ridiculously huge krogan with strangely pale blue eyes was standing with a dangerously bored expression on his face. The krogan said nothing, but perked considerably as the phrase "the hard way."

Smith still said nothing. He had no reason to believe these people intended to let him live.

The woman's vaguely amused expression didn't waver. She stared at him a moment longer before she said, "Okay, Grunt."

He wouldn't have believed something so huge could move so fast unless he'd seen it for himself. In an instant the krogan was on him, and in another instant he was on the floor. In the dazed moment before his body caught up with his brain, before the pain blazed through his dislocated shoulder and his fractured ribs, he had time to think, _He was holding back, that huge fucking krogan could have snapped me in_-and then further thinking was impossible.

To his credit, he did not scream. He gritted his teeth and most pointedly didn't scream. The human woman knelt by him. He felt the muzzle of a gun pressed against the side of his head. He panted through his clenched teeth and said nothing. "Hm." Her tone indicated that she acknowledged the challenge his resolve presented, rather than respect.

"Shepard…" the turian spoke again, his double-toned voice laced with slight concern.

"You know what we're going to do with you? We're going to take you _into custody_." Smith was so startled that he was unable to keep the expression from his face. She grinned when she saw it, "No, we're not going to kill you. Not right now." And with that, she casually struck him a cross the face with her pistol.

Smith saw stars. The blow had rolled him onto his back. He saw the krogan from his position on the floor, looking distinctly disappointed by his lack of participation in this new turn of events.

"I don't know all the quarians you were hoarding here, but I do know two of them, and they are very special friends of mine. I heard before we got here that one of them is dying. First of all, let me tell you, if he goes, _you_ go." She stood and slipped her weapon back into place. Smith just gasped at the ceiling. "But I've got the best doctor-and I mean _the_ best-that I've ever known, so he just might make it. And if he does, then I am taking you-" And here she knelt to grab him roughly by the front of his armor and pulled him to his feet.

Smith was unable to stifle a grunt of agony. She didn't notice or didn't care. "To the first authority figure I find that'll have you. And you'll have a nice little trial, and a nice little incarceration, and when you're nice and settled in as the new bitch on the prison block, you're not even going to be able to complain that you weren't treated fairly." Her eyes narrowed in sadistic pleasure. "Every time you're bending over for someone, you'll think of your nice little trial, and how you couldn't have had a better chance to get away with this. But you didn't. Because _you fucked with Commander Shepard._"

She dropped him. The jarring pain of his hitting the floor knocked Smith old cold.

There was a long pause, into which Garrus supplied, "Damn."

Shepard shrugged. Now that she had delivered her speech, raw emotion was playing across her nondescript features. Anger for what had happened, fear for Kal'Reegar, frustration at the harsh unfairness of the galaxy, all were clear for the trained eye to see. Garrus was beyond qualified for such. He felt a twinge of sympathy. He remembered how he'd felt when he'd had Sidonis in his scope and she had infuriatingly insisted on blocking his shot. Letting that bastard go had been hard, but in the end, Garrus felt that he'd made the right decision.

It couldn't be easy for her now, looking down at the mastermind behind this fiasco. As soon as she had learned from that lone quarian scout vessel that both Kal'Reegar and Veetor'Nara were in deadly danger, she had pushed herself to her limit to get to them in time. He knew his Commander was very fond of Tali, as he was-though he'd never admit it, of course, except perhaps to Shepard herself-and those two quarians had been responsible for saving Tali from exile.

It wasn't just fondness that drove her to save them. It was a debt that she felt she had to repay. Garrus wanted to ask her if she was okay, but Grunt spoke up first. "Why not just kill him here and be finished with him?"

His voice seemed to snap her out of her trance. "He isn't worth killing." A pause. "Not unless Reegar dies." She bent to haul Smith to her feet. "Besides," she said, in the tone of voice that Garrus knew she used when she was convincing herself of something, "we should keep him alive and try to get some info out of him. If they have any more bases like this, they could be a problem."

"Miranda could probably help us on that front," Garrus said, helping the change of subject along.

"I was thinking about letting Jack play with him for a few minutes."

Garrus laughed, and he was relieved to see a little of the familiar spunk returning to her eyes. "Yeah, I like your idea better."


	14. Shasta Trinity

**Author's Note: **This is the last chapter, folks! After this is the epilogue, and it'll finally be done. Goodness. It seems… like forever since I started this. Well. I'll get all sentimental before the epilogue.

Enjoy!

**/Chapter 13 - Shasta Trinity**

"I ended up with forty acres,

I ended up with a broken fiddle-

And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories,

And not a single regret."

-Edgar Lee Masters, _Fiddler Jones_

As soon as the all-clear signal came from the _Normandy_, the quarian vessels-which now consisted not only of the scout ship, but also the _Yagangar_ and its escorts-set a course for Shasta Trinity. In the hours it took them to get there, the _Normandy_ crew had its hands full with their new passengers as well as the hostages. All but one of the prisoners were stored in a makeshift brig guarded by Grunt. The quarian passengers were initially scattered, but soon gathered up by Tali'Zorah, who saw it as her personal responsibility to keep her people comfortable.

All of the refugees were nervous about being aboard a Cerberus vessel. Miranda was quick to lecture them on their lingering prejudice. "I assumed that our assistance in taking back the _Alarei _would have cleared the air between us," she commented, crossing her arms as the ragtag group of quarians were given a cursory looking-over by Chakwas.

A few of them looked abashed, but one said, "That was Shepard. Not you."

Miranda sighed and shook her head, leaving the quarians to the doctor. As she walked away, Tali murmured, "She is not the easiest woman to get along with, but she means well. She is just as important to the team as I am. We might not even be here to help you if it wasn't for her, so please, give her a chance."

One of the younger refugees, who was leaning to the side to stare at Miranda's retreating form, looked as if he wanted to give her more than that, but in the end, they all agreed to at least tolerate the Cerberus presence. Explaining Legion to them proved to be a bit more difficult. "Like Miranda, I didn't trust it. Well, it was more than that, but… oh, Keelah, where do I start?"

The refugees listened as Tali tried to explain what she'd learned about Legion. She skirted the heavier topics, such as the possibility of peace between the geth and her people. She still wasn't sure that it would work, though Legion had expressed to her that if certain conditions were met, it would be open to the idea. Regardless of logistics, these people had been through a lot. They didn't need their heads crammed full of any radical ideas. "Just trust me. It works for Shepard, not for anyone else. It's saved my life more than once. You can relax while you're here."

While Chakwas was tending to the majority of the survivors, Mordin had cleared a space in his own workshop for Kal'Reegar. One of the tables had been hastily converted to a medical bed, and the always-spotless lab was now being carefully cordoned off by mass effect fields to ensure an absolutely sterile environment. The salarian set to work, only now and again calling for aid, and usually in the form of supplies. As soon as Chakwas had verified that the other survivors were physically fine, he requested her to join him. The two doctors stayed there the rest of the night (or whatever passed as night on a spaceship).

Most of the established crewmembers were happy enough to share their quarters with the refugees. One quarian, of course, didn't settle down all night. He simply waited in the conference room outside of the tech lab. They had no waiting room in the Normandy, but it was close enough to the tech lab to serve as one in this instance. It was isolated, quiet, and dim, and that comforted him.

Veetor had spoken only a few words since they had set foot onto the ship. He had simply requested to be told when Kal was okay, and to be taken somewhere he could wait for him. The dark-skinned human (Veetor hadn't caught his name) had taken him to the comm room, and then Veetor had settled into his silent vigil.

Elan came to him shortly before bed. She would have stayed up with Veetor all night, but she was still exhausted from her ordeal and simply didn't have it in her. Veetor didn't look up at all as she entered, accompanied by the soft hiss of the opening door. He just stared at his hands, silent, drawn into the unstable sanctuary of his mind. She crossed the floor and sat down next to him.

She was familiar with this state, and knew the best thing she could do for Veetor was wait, so she did. It took nearly a full hour for the twitchy quarian to draw himself out of his own mind enough to speak, and when he did, his voice was so soft that it was nearly inaudible in the stillness. "I don't want him to die, Elan."

"None of us do, Veetor," she reached out to touch his shoulder. He didn't move. Veetor had never flinched from Elan. Something about the gesture seemed to hit a nerve in him, though, grieving him instead of comforting him, and at once he crumpled up, splaying his hands across the front of his helmet and lowering it.

"I did this to him," he said hoarsely, "If I hadn't… Kal came with me to protect me. I should have just come for you by myself, then he wouldn't-Kal, he doesn't deserve-_Kal_…"

Elan sat quietly as his half-sentences turned into meaningless babble, letting him work it out of his system. She silently let Veetor grieve until he was too exhausted to say anything else. Veetor felt his emotions powerfully. They consumed and dominated him. Sometimes they needed to run their course, and it was then that she offered comfort. She waited until he had fallen silent, waited until he had caught his breath, and when he did, she spoke. "Tell me what happened, Veetor."

He looked up to her then, blinking helplessly behind the smoky surface of his helmet. "I…" He began uncertainly. There was a short pause, and then it all came out. Words tumbled haphazardly from Veetor's mouth. He told her everything, starting with Kal'Reegar finding him after the crash and their rescue of Delor. He told her about the terror he felt on those cold alien nights, about the struggle to reach the refugees' campsite. The more he talked, the more attention he focused to his tale.

There was a hint of strength in his voice as he told Elan about life in the camp. He'd met Sprag then. He hesitated, and then struggled to explain how he'd felt when he thought Elan had been killed. "I… I couldn't escape my mind. I was trapped in my head. I just kept remembering, and everything got out of control." How could he put into words the dark crash of panic and grief that had engulfed him? He couldn't. He shivered at the memory. "I think… I think I went a little crazy," he whispered, "but Kal saved me."

He remembered that night when he'd gone to see Kal, only to find him sleeping. Had that been the first time that Veetor had started to love him? He didn't know, even now.

Recounting the battle of their first escape was difficult for Veetor. He tried, but in his mind it was all flashes of light, the hiss and zing of projectiles, the air palpable with heat and noise and death, the shouts of friend and foe alike mingling into one raucous and bone-rattling ululation. He had to chop it up into moments, into instances that clung together in the restless tide of his mind. He remembered, with horrible clarity, the sight of his dead comrade after the first assault on the remains of the _Kildeira._ He remembered helping Sprag away from the fire alone.

He remembered meeting Agara in the middle of a battle that he'd never intended to join. Then the YMIR mech, and the dogs-yes, he remembered the dogs. "I got shot. I don't remember much else after that. But I got shot, and… and Kal helped me then, too." He fell quiet again.

He recounted the peaceful time that had followed after, how Kal and Veetor had eventually come to realize their mutual attraction, and then had proceeded to do very little about it. Veetor made a promise to himself then, in the dark quiet of the conference room as he told his tale to Elan. He was going to make sure that, if he was given more time with Kal, no matter how much or how little, he would not waste it.

Veetor paused for a few more moments, and then he began to tell her about the circumstances leading up to his return to Shasta Trinity. The actual rescue he retold detail for detail. The plan had been hammered into his brain, and he would never forget it. "Our plan almost worked."

"It did work, Veetor. The both of you rescued all of us."

"We would have died if Shepard hadn't come and saved us," Veetor protested.

"You don't know that for sure. You _cannot _know that. Perhaps our people would have found us before they could have sent us away. Either way, you gave us a chance we hadn't had before you came for us. No. You saved us, Veetor. You and Kal'Reegar both. We are all in your debt."

Veetor hung his head. Her gratitude was… _right_, it was warming, but it couldn't heal the hurt that welled in him. If he lost Kal'Reegar, he didn't think he would ever feel the same again. "I don't know what to do, Elan," he whispered, his voice wracked with despair.

"There is nothing you can do, Veetor." The fingers on his shoulder squeezed gently. "Except wait. And I'll be here. I'll be here for you, Veetor. You were there for me when I needed you. And I want you to know, Veetor, that all of these things you've done-all of these people you've saved-you had help, but you did them with your own strength. Not because of me, or Kal'Reegar, or the Commander, or anyone but you. I'm proud, Veetor. I am so _proud_ to know you. I know you'll get through this."

Veetor trembled silently, and then fell still, as if that last effort had drained his body of the rest of its resources. "Thank you," he said softly, listlessly, "Thank you, Elan."

She knew he meant it, even if she couldn't hear it in his voice. Without a word, she reached over and covered her hand with his. Veetor slowly turned his palm so that he was able to grasp her fingers, and together, they sat in the darkness, for a very long time. Eventually Veetor said, "Elan, I know you're tired. I'll be okay. Please get some sleep." She hesitated, but Veetor shook his head and added, "Please. It would make me feel better to know you're safe, and you're asleep."

Eventually she nodded and disengaged. "You may call for me if you need me, Veetor. No matter when. Promise me you will?"

Veetor managed something like a smile, and he nodded. "I promise."

/

It had been satisfying to watch the man Smith slowly regain consciousness, blinking confusedly as he lifted his cheek off the cold metallic floor of the cargo hold. She watched his expression as he took in the sight of the two women standing before him, both human. Then, much to her amusement, Shepard saw that he recognized her tattooed companion. The Commander had prepared to settle down for a nice evening of interrogation, but things had spiraled out of control far faster than she'd expected, and before she could blink she was dodging a flying crate and calling for Samara.

They managed to, if not calm Jack down, drive her off to some area of the ship where she _would_. She stormed out after a brief biotic showdown, streaming curses in her wake. The aura surrounding Samara's body flickered and died as Shepard skidded to their fallen prisoner's side. "He is alive," the asari said with calm certainty.

Shepard turned the man over, scowling. He was unconscious again, and a nasty gash left a ragged, bleeding streak across his forehead and into his dark hair. "Can't say he didn't deserve it. It doesn't look all _that_ bad," she grunted, and grabbed his arm to pull him up. As she did, it bent in a way that an arm was most assuredly not meant to bend. Commander Shepard blinked. "His arm's broken," she announced.

A quick, not-so-gentle survey also revealed what was likely a few cracked ribs. Muttering darkly to herself, she called up Chakwas. "We got one more wounded when you guys are ready for him. Jack roughed up our favorite prisoner." She glanced to Smith. A broken rib could be problematic, especially if it had pierced the lung. It wasn't something she could tell right here. He was also going to be in amazing agony when he _did _wake up from his brief beating. "He can wait, though, until Reegar's stable," she finished decidedly.

"Kal'Reegar is already stable, Captain," the familiar soothing strains of Dr. Chakwas's voice came through her communicator. She sounded vaguely amused. "As of… about two minutes ago, actually. My colleague suggests he will be conscious by the morning. I suspect this has more to do with optimism than anything else, however."

"I wouldn't wager against him," Shepard replied, a grin lighting her face and her spirits. She could faintly hear Mordin's muffled protests in the background. "Damn, you guys are good."

"I'm afraid most of the credit will have to go to Dr. Solus." Chakwas began, but Shepard could hear that Mordin had apparently moved closer, because his next words were quite audible, though they were rendered distant and tinny by the communicator.

"Nonsense. Couldn't have done it without you, Doctor."

She shook her head and thanked them both before shutting down the communicator. The Commander then turned her attention to Smith, who was still lying on the floor, his breathing shallow and blood slowly seeping into his hair.

"You are angry." Samara had not moved since she had quelled Jack's wrath (or at least displaced it), and did not move now as Shepard met her gaze. For a moment the two women just stood by one another. Samara was not perfect, and her code was sometimes lethally hypocritical, but Shepard could not deny that the hundreds of years of experience that the old warrior had, tempered with her sense of sacrifice and duty, made her someone that she could possibly look up to.

She would never admit it to anyone, of course, but she suspected that Samara probably already knew. "Yeah. I am. But I made a promise. We keep him in one piece unless Reegar dies." A pause. "Mostly in one piece."

She could have imagined it, but she thought she saw the slightest flicker of mirth pass across the Justicar's calm features. Samara turned her attention to the man on the ground. "Commander," she said after a moment, "When I arrived, and Jack was beating him… she was angry, but not at him." She looked back to Shepard "Every blow was concentrated on this man, but her eyes weren't seeing him. They were looking elsewhere. Perhaps you should talk to her. I fear we may have opened an old wound."

The Commander nodded, but knew she wouldn't likely have any success with Jack. The other woman had made it quite clear that she didn't need any psychiatric treatment from the Commander. All she needed was an outlet for all the anger that had festered inside her. Shepard had unwillingly just provided one. Damn. She really wasn't good with dealing with someone as… _complicated _as Jack. The least she could do was try to make it up to her. Maybe another visit to Tuchanka would help Jack blow off some steam. She always cheered up on Tuchanka.

As she was entertaining these thoughts, another familiar voice rang through the ship's comm systems. "Commander?"

"Yes, Joker?"

"Thane just got finished doing… uh, whatever the hell it is he does that tells him everything about everyone _else_." The words perked the Commander up considerably. She had charged their resident drell with tracking down all the information he could on their prisoners, as well as finding out what they could about this Smith fellow (what an absurdly obvious pseudonym!). "We don't got anything on the small fry. Might as well just drop them off when we get a chance. And Jack's new punching bag is pretty clean, too." Shepard's heart sank, so disappointed that she didn't even bother to ask how Joker had found out about the beating so quickly. "He's got one outstanding warrant on the Citadel, and that'll lock him up for a few years, but anything else he's done was out here, under the radar. Not even the merc groups want him."

Shepard nodded. That was probably a good thing. The temptation to hand over this despicable scrap of a man to someone like the Blue Suns or Eclipse was strong… of course, Shepard rather doubted either of them wanted to do any manner of business with her. The relationship between the three of them was rocky. "That gives us our new destination. As soon as our guests are home, we move. We'll deliver Smith first."

Relocating the quarians aboard was largely an easy affair. The _Yagangar_ and its accompanying ships arrived the following morning, and the quarian refugees were ferried aboard to be decontaminated and then put to rest. The road to recovery for many of them was just beginning after the weeks of ill-treatment they had endured. Their captors had kept them physically healthy, but they were all emotionally scarred.

Shepard remembered, in particular, the reunion of a mother and son. The mother had been held captive, and she clung to the her young son, barely tall enough to fit into his newly-equipped suit. The mother was sobbing and babbling, and one of her fellow prisoners was trying to soothe her. It only further kindled the hatred she felt for the man currently unconscious in Chakwas's office.

Three quarian individuals had politely, but insistently requested permission to come aboard. They were as ecstatic as their crewmembers to see all of the hostages returned unharmed, but they had noticed a few notably missing faces. Once brought aboard, they began to explain. The trio consisted of two males and a female, and the female did most of the talking-or, rather, she tried to. She was obviously flustered, and the younger male had to occasionally interject a few calmly relayed sentences. The older fellow didn't speak at all, not until the very end.

They told the Commander a tale that began on Shasta Trinity and ended there, as well. Even inexpertly told between two different individuals, Shepard managed to make sense of it, and was smiling as they neared the end. "You see…" The female, whose name was Delor'Shaal, "They're…. we owe them a lot, all of us."

"Boys saved us. All of us, at least once, they did," the older fellow finally added.

"They're our friends." Delor finished quietly.

There had been no reason to suspect the quarians of anything fishy, but Shepard had been unsure if bringing visitors in to see Veetor was the proper thing to do. The Veetor she knew was very different from the silent, strengthened creature they had brought aboard the Normandy. She didn't know if he'd crack, and her recent bungling with Jack's mental health made her wary of making another mistake.

But Elan, who had come to see the refugees off, quietly recommended it. "It would be good for him to know that he isn't alone."

Veetor simply stared at them as they came into the conference room. He had just arrived from seeing Kal, who was still unconscious, despite Mordin's predictions. The salarian had assured Veetor that he was merely sleeping and recovering. Veetor had stared into the dark depths of Kal's (repaired) helmet repaired for a long time before he'd nodded and left to go wait some more.

The night before, he had decided to try to sleep, though it had only come fitfully. He was still obviously tired and disconnected. After greetings, Delor nervously and rapidly launched into share the story of their coming to rescue him-the clue, Agara's part in the mystery-solving (which she hailed as genius, and which Agara embarrassedly tried to explain was nothing special), and Sprag's use of his influence.

As she spoke, Veetor seemed to relax a bit, slowly looking between their faces. These were his _friends. _No matter what else happened, he had them. It was not nearly enough to fill the yawning empty gulf in him, but it helped him hold on. The female soldier told most of the tale, while Sprag watched silently and Agara occasionally gave a noncommittal nod. She was doing enough talking for the other two, anyway.

When Delor had finally run out of steam (which took a considerable amount of time), Veetor said, "Kal got hurt. He's very sick, but they told me this morning that he's doing a little better. He's still asleep."

"Well, that's a relief," Delor said, letting out a whoosh of air. "I was wondering why he wasn't here, but I didn't want to ask…"

Veetor nodded. "It's okay."

Sprag coughed lightly, and immediately the other three quarians looked to him. "Damn shame." He finally said, "What people do to one another. It's a good thing you boys put an end to it. Couldn't let them do that to those folks. You did a good job, both of you. Proud of you. Fine job. All of you. Proud of Elan, too. Fine woman." He shook his head. "Damn fine woman." And that seemed to be all he had to say.

"So, are you going to come home now?" Delor asked hopefully.

"The doctor said that Kal should probably just rest and not be moved. I told him we have hospitals on our ships, but this place is a lot more advanced, in case something… goes wrong." Veetor swallowed thickly. "So if he stays, I'm staying."

In the end, the quarian doctors agreed with Mordin. The salarian assured them that the Normandy could drop the marine off after their trip to the Citadel, which would likely only take four days, but at most, might take a week. The quarian medical staff were perplexed as to why this obviously skilled physician thought that Kal'Reegar would be fit for travel in such a short time, but they didn't argue.

Delor, Agara, and Sprag bid Veetor a temporary good-bye and returned to the fleet. Elan went to the communication room one more time before the ships parted ways and sat by Veetor. "You should probably try to get some more rest. You don't look as if you've slept at all, Veetor," she suggested into the silence.

"I will. I'll sleep in a little bit. I just… I'll sleep." Veetor responded quietly.

They sat side by side for a time. "Veetor, I will stay, if you need me to." Elan said suddenly.

It took the twitchy quarian a few moments to respond. "I'll be okay," he finally said. "I… I will." Wonder entered his voice as he realized the truth in his words. He turned to her, blinking rapidly behind his helmet, and he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be okay, Elan. I think everyone else needs you now. More than I do. But thank you." The numbness lifted from him for the first time. He stood suddenly, and Elan, startled, followed in his wake.

Veetor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'll be okay. I _will. _You helped me, Elan," he took both of her hands. "But now other people need you to help them. No matter what else happens, I just… thank you."

She continued to stare for a moment, and then smiled, bursting with pride. "Thank _you, _Veetor." The words seemed hardly adequate, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. There were no words she could find to accurately display how proud she was of him, how grateful she was to know him, how much she hoped that, for the sake of his heart, everything would turn out okay for her former patient. Then she remembered two that would suffice. "Keelah se'lai, Veetor'Nara. Come back to us soon."

"I will. Keelah se'lai, Elan."

/

There were shipboard records of the events on Haestrom, since Commander Shepard had been so intimately involved in them. On that dying world, the quarian marine known as Kal'Reegar had been shot in the heat of battle. Further records from Tali's trial indicated that it had taken the best quarian doctors a week to get him back up to full steam.

Mordin Solus had him conscious and well in about three days. The soldier was still weak, and forbidden to leave his bed, but his fever had broken, his body purged of its illness, and he was fully aware of his surroundings. The first thing he'd done was ask for Veetor.

The quarian had gone back to sleep. It had been roughly forty-one hours since they had left the system that contained the little speck of dirt of a moon where it had all began. Veetor was awoken by a soothing, but insistent female voice. "Mister Nara, your presence has been requested in the tech lab." The sleepy quarian shook his head and shuddered slightly, as if still caught in his frantic dreams.

EDI had been left with instructions to inform Veetor'Nara of any change in the marine's condition by both Tali'Zorah and Commander Shepard. The Commander had additionally instructed that Veetor be allowed to rest as much as he needed to. He was still recovering from his ordeal. She didn't waste time with the two orders' conflicting with one another because Mordin Solus had left orders for her to see to it that Kal'Reegar was given whatever he asked for. He had asked for Veetor.

The quarian only let the fact that he was being spoken to by a disembodied voice bother him for a few moments. "Kal? Kal'Reegar asked for me?"

"That is correct," EDI replied calmly. She watched as Veetor literally jumped out of his bed and hurried out of the room, through the hallway towards the elevator.

Only then did he pause. "Um. Who…" Then he turned and entered the room again, as if unsure that the presence had followed him. Leaning in the doorway, he asked, "Who are you?"

EDI activated a holographic representation of herself from the panel near the wall. "I am EDI, the ship's onboard AI." She had, until recently, agreed to keep as quiet and unobtrusive as possible while the quarian survivors were onboard. She was well aware of what the typical quarian response to an AI might be, and she understood and reciprocated the Commander's wish to keep them as comfortable as possible. However, under the current circumstances, lying to Veetor'Nara hadn't seemed quite fair.

Veetor didn't say anything for a few moments. He just blinked vaguely behind his helmet, and finally added, "Oh. Okay." Before he ducked out of the room and ran for the elevator.

EDI was distinctly satisfied. That had gone well.

/

As Veetor had slept, the Normandy had neared the Citadel. Thane had met with the Commander to share what information he'd dredged up on their alleged ringleader. Thane had hit a roadblock as to discovering the man's identity until, on a whim, he'd tried something new. As it turned out, Smith was, in fact, the man's real name. Mirit Smith.

This was a point of much humor among the crew. Shepard was sure to get a few guffaws in front of the man on the shuttle down. Thane and Kasumi accompanied her to turn Smith in, and the man sat in stony silence, staring at the ground and not even twitching at the open ridicule. His stoic lack of a reaction made the Commander feel a little silly.

But only a little.

"That's a long way to go for just one person, Shepard," Bailey said as they finished booking Smith. Two C-Sec officers escorted the man away. The prisoner remained as blank-faced as he'd ever been. Shepard glanced up from her Omni-tool, where she was verifying the small bounty that had just been transferred to her account. The Captain smiled. "What, don't trust me?"

"Habit," she quipped, lowering her arm. "This one's less about money and more about… personal satisfaction."

"Well, if you feel like getting satisfied around here any time soon, be my guest," the human grunted, "We've had our hands full here the past few weeks." That seemed as close to a goodbye as she was getting, so Shepard shrugged and turned. She found herself face-to-face with Thane. An expression of pensive questioning rested on the drell's eloquent features. The Commander grinned, jerked a thumb over her shoulder, and said, "Go ahead. We'll catch a lunch."

Thane nodded gratefully, but didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Shepard knew very well what this meant to him. He stepped forward to politely greet Captain Bailey, and as Shepard and Kasumi trotted out into Zakera Ward, she heard the human officer begin, "Checking up on your kid? You remember those problems I was telling your boss about…?"

After that, they had moved too far away to hear him. As they made their way down to Level Twenty-Six, Kasumi said, softly, "He couldn't have been the ringleader, Shepard. He was hiding something. Protecting something, or maybe someone."

The Commander looked to Kasumi askance. Of all the people she'd adopted into her extended crew, she found Kasumi to be the most skilled at seeing through defenses to what lay beneath. Her occupation made it necessary for her to be able to read people. It was one of her strongest skills. "I thought so, too, but he isn't going to talk. I've seen his type before, back on Earth. Nothing scared that man. Not even _Jack._" She shook her head. "Not much we can do about it."

"I think we've done enough," Kasumi replied with a broad grin.

It was a contagious expression, especially on what was visible of the mischievous thief's face. It found its way to Shepard's plain features. "Maybe this is the last we'll hear of it, ringleader or no. I sure as hell hope so." It boggled the mind that an organization so insignificant as to not seemingly have an official name could cause so much trouble. "But if they try to reform…"

"We'll handle it the same way," Kasumi finished confidently. The thief's swagger was her second-most important attribute, Shepard decided. Having Kasumi on her side could make the Commander feel like anything was possible.. Kasumi certainly never did anything to discourage such an idea. "I don't think they'll be going back to that moon anytime soon, anyway. What was it called again?"

"It was called Shasta Trinity. But it's more or less quarian turf now." Whatever happened next, that region of space was indisputably in possession of the handful of quarian scientists living there. No reprobate would dare risk the wrath of a surprise assault from the Normandy. "Maybe they'll rename it or something."

Kasumi nodded. "And what do you intend to do with our other guests?"

"Well, after we take Kal and Veetor home, we can find some place to drop them off. I hear Korlus is nice this time of year." The Commander usually did what she could to make the galaxy a better place, and she was first in line to defend the defenseless, but her charity could only be pushed so far.

Kasumi grinned and shook her head. They walked along in silence for a bit longer. When faced against the astronomical odds that, thus far, seemed to have comprised her entire life, Shepard found it important to savor the little things. Helping out a group of friends was enough to keep her fighting another day, and for a few moments, she savored the warmth that came with the knowledge that people she cared about were safe and sound. She sighed deeply, letting the flow of air cleanse her of her lingering doubts. "Let's make this lunch a long one."

"For Thane's sake, of course," Kasumi added.

Shepard gave a tired, but genuinely cheerful laugh. "Of course."

/

Tali was standing by Kal'Reegar when Veetor arrived. Outside of the tech lab's window, he could see that the rushing void had been replaced by the subtler constellations of a Citadel arm, laden with distant buildings, stretching into the distance. They must have docked while he was asleep. He only dedicated a few seconds to marking their location, because it hardly mattered to him now that he saw Kal'Reegar sitting up and blinking behind his (repaired) visor at him. "Kal!" He was immediately at the marine's side.

"That was quick," Tali remarked, her voice honeyed with amusement. "I'll be in the AI core if you need me." She left the two alone, and Veetor watched her go, wondering momentarily if he'd misheard her. He thought Tali was stationed in Engineering? He must have heard wrong.

He turned his attention back to Kal and simply drank in the sight of him. Kal'Reegar had something like an aura about him-a larger-than-life air. He was a robust figure, full of vim and vigor, a bastion of asskickery, and to see him laid so low just days before had been jarring. Lying asleep like that, there had been nothing but Kal's unconscious form, looking somehow small without the light of the quarian's spirit around it.

It was back now. Veetor took his hand immediately, and, too overwhelmed to say anything else for the moment, simply repeated, "Kal."

"Yep," Kal'Reegar's voice was a little hoarser than usual, but full of its customary strength.

The sound of it seemed to unlock whatever dam had been keeping Veetor's words in place. Unfortunately, they all came out too fast, and all at the same time. "I thought-when you-I want-Kal, I don't-I… I love you."

Kal'Reegar nodded, taking the confession in stride. "I know, Veetor. That's one of the few things I remember after I got shot." He paused. "That and… some crazy dream about a geth." He shook his head. "Damned strangest thing."

Veetor decided that he could explain Legion later.

"I thought I was done. I've never been afraid to die before. I'm still not," he added with a shrug. Veetor opened his mouth to protest, but Kal tightened his fingers over Veetor's, and the gesture numbed the twitchy quarian's tongue. "But I didn't want to. Not, uh… not before…" The only time that Kal'Reegar ever became timid was when he had to say something raw and emotionally honest. He cleared his throat. "Not before I could tell you that I love you, Veetor."

Veetor smiled and didn't say anything. There was nothing more to say. He looked down at their hands, and they simply remained there for a long time in happy silence. When Veetor finally spoke, he began the tale with a single word. "Well."

It all tumbled out after that. It was the third time he'd told the story since coming to the Normandy, and he was quite good at it by now. Kal'Reegar listened with an attentiveness attributed to intense military training, occasionally nodding as he corroborated Veetor's words with his own memories. Veetor abridged the parts concerning Legion for now.

At the end of it all, Kal shook his head. "I still can't believe we pulled it off."

"We would have died if the _Normandy_ hadn't found us." Veetor replied. He was still staring at their joined hands. He added, softly, "You would have died. Kal, I'm… I'm so sorry, I never should have brought you, I didn't mean for you to get hurt like this-"

"Hey," Kal interrupted sharply. He reached up and forced Veetor's helmet to rise slightly, grasping it by the metal chin-guard. "Don't start that on me. I know you would have done the same for me. Don't pretend like you wouldn't." Veetor saw a fleeting smile flash across the blurred shapes of Kal's eyes. The soldier released his helmet. "We're in this together. I don't regret a second of it."

Veetor would need time to let the guilt fade, but he recognized the truth in Kal's words. He considered a moment, head tilted thoughtfully. Regrets…? "I wish she hadn't gotten away," he finally concluded.

It seemed to take Kal'Reegar a few moments to understand what he meant. "Oh. The turian." He shrugged and shifted slightly on the hospital bed. "Her men are scattered. She'll either pop up again, and we'll have to beat her down, or she'll just stay gone."

"I don't know. She could have died."

"Maybe the pirates got her," Kal replied, "if we're lucky.'

Veetor paused, and then added, quietly, shyly, "We _are _lucky."

The smile in Kal'Reegar's eyes was unmistakable then, and Veetor echoed it with one of his own. They fell into silence again, both of them brimming with emotions they didn't know how to express. The sensation was a familiar one-though both Kal'Reegar and Veetor'Nara were remarkable men in their own right, they were pretty lousy at the romance thing. Neither one would trade their partner for the most charismatic and debonair person in the galaxy, though. They treasured one another's awkward, but heartfelt gestures of affection. Maybe they'd get better with practice.

The acute awareness of how closely they'd come to losing the other was the little push they needed to get them started, though. "What the hell," Kal'Reegar said gruffly, "I'm already _in_ a hospital." He reached up and popped the seals of his visor.

The faint hiss made Veetor start. He watched, transfixed, as Kal'Reegar pulled the smoky arc away from his face, blinking in the sudden unfiltered light. Carefully, he set it aside on a little stand Mordin had erected by the hospital bed. Kal's face was predictably rugged, marked with premature, fine lines at the corners of his eyes, physical testaments of the hazards and stresses of his job. The eyes themselves were larger than Veetor had expected. They lent an intelligent air to his otherwise fierce face. Kal took a deep breath and reached up to rest his fingers on the catches of Veetor's visor. He simply held them there, a question in those unexpectedly expressive eyes.

Veetor didn't move. He didn't know if he was frozen with fear, or just stunned by the sight of Kal's face, or perhaps a mixture of the two, but want won out over both of them. He reached up gently nudged Kal's fingers aside, popping the seals himself. He removed his visor and set it down beside Kal's.

He watched the marine take in his features: his markedly darker skin, his nervously blinking eyes. He inhaled sharply, and a thrill of adrenalin rushed through him at the strange scent of unfiltered air, "Kal-"

Kal'Reegar cut him off with a kiss.

Immediate sensory overload. Veetor's brain struggled to process the firm pressure of Kal's lips, the gentle currents of Kal's breath on his skin, and when Kal pulled away, Veetor could still feel the phenomenally strange way that Kal's body made the air _warmer_ around him. It was wholly alien and utterly fascinating. Veetor remained frozen, stunned.

The sight brought a distinctly satisfied grin to Kal's face. Veetor saw, for the first time, that the soldier's smile was crooked, saw the way it changed his whole face until every inch of it glowed with the emotion behind the gesture. The marine's tired features lit up when he smiled. It was wonderful to be able to see it. Veetor didn't know how he'd lived without it so long.

Kal chuckled hoarsely, and was about to make what was likely a smart-ass remark, but he never got the chance, because before he could blink he was being pushed awkwardly against his pillow, the thick tubing coming from the back of his helmet protesting against the pressure.

Veetor had veritably jumped on him, and had responded to his unsaid taunt with a messy but wholehearted clash of lips, teeth, tongue that could only loosely be called a kiss. It was all emotion with no finesse, which was more or less what Kal had come to expect from all things concerning Veetor'Nara. If one were feeling poetic, they might describe Kal's kiss as a statement. He told Veetor, without words, the extent of his feelings. Veetor's was a demand. It was the firm command of a man who knew what he wanted.

What Veetor wanted was _Kal. _

Eventually Veetor remembered that he had to breathe, and he pulled away, gulping in quick mouthfuls of air. It was Kal's turn to reel in shock, and after a moment, he weakly countered "Damn."

Something about his tone caused Veetor to break into breathless laughter. "We're going to get sick," Veetor warned him, still laughing. Mirth had driven all of the nervousness from his face, from his pale eyes, and Kal'Reegar found the sight of Veetor so simply happy to be incredibly gratifying.

Kal sat back up and grinned again. He shifted forward and held his face close to Veetor's. "We should probably," he said lowly, hoarsely, "quit while we're ahead."

Kal almost laughed when Veetor stopped, his expression once again going slack with shock with comical swiftness. He recovered admirably, though, with a shy, but eager smile. "Probably." He closed the distance between them again, and this time, Kal leaned forward to meet him.

/

They got sick, of course.

Neither Kal'Reegar nor Veetor contracted anything serious, so they were moved to Chakwas's office. Mordin chided them on their recklessness, but his heart wasn't in it. They were young, and such behavior was not unusual. He'd accepted such foolishness long ago, and recognized its necessity at times. When Grunt got the news that both quarians had simultaneously taken sick, the krogan snorted and disparaged their immune system.

His obvious misinterpretation of the situation amused those that did understand. Jack was the only person willing to march down to where the krogan spent most of his day guarding what was left of their prisoners, and spelled it out for him in explicit detail-much more explicit, in fact, than anything that had actually happened between the two men. She left the brig, cackling at the memory of the startled look on that ruthless face, and the faces of the prisoners within earshot, her mood much improved since the encounter with Smith.

"Worth it," was Kal's opinion of the entire matter. Of course, he was having some serious sinus issues, so it came out, "Worth id," much to the amusement of Veetor and anyone passing through the room at the time. Veetor recovered faster than the soldier, but remained by his side as they both decided to make the most of the downtime. Something like a two-day vacation fell upon them.

Tali spent almost the entire two days with them, gleaning what details of their latest expedition she could from Reegar. She also told them of her own adventures. Both listened eagerly as she shared her experiences after the trial. Quarians love a good story, and Tali was a damned good storyteller, which only made her incredible tale more exciting to the riveted quarians. It was long, too, and she spent her mealtimes there, retreating only to sleep or to mysteriously slip into the AI core.

Her reason for the latter was soon revealed. Once she had reached the part of the story where they had met Legion, she had decided to haltingly introduce them to it. Veetor was unsure what to think of the geth and what Tali told him of their apparent true nature, but he did know one thing-Kal would likely have been worse off if it hadn't been for the machine's help. So, as soon as she brought it to meet them, he shook its hand and quietly thanked it.

That made it a little easier for Kal to tolerate it. The soldier was still intensely wary of Legion, and Tali was quick to let him know that she accepted that. "What happened between us, between _all_ of us… it won't be taken care of in two days." She sighed. It seemed as if her decision, those years ago, to track down information on Saren had landed the direst of responsibilities on her. As if it wasn't enough that she had a galaxy to help save, she might very well end up being the quarian head of some kind of peace movement between her people and their ancestral enemy.

Whether or not Veetor understood the weight of her burden, he saw the effect it had on her. He gently, nervously touched her wrist. "If anyone can do it, Tali, you can. "

She smiled behind her visor. "Thank you, Veetor."

It wasn't long before they reached their destination. Veetor and Kal were both on their feet by then (though Kal was still embarrassingly nasal, much to his dismay), and they both stood in the Port Observatory, by Kasumi's invitation, to watch the gas giant loom into view. A smudge of brown appeared after a moment against the monstrous curving bulk of the planet, which resolved itself into a moon, where the _Yagangar _was orbiting, its crew patiently awaiting the return of their kinsmen.

"That's our home." Veetor said quietly. After a moment, he added, "For now. Shasta Trinity." The two words meant so much more than they had the first time he heard them. They meant more than a mostly-barren, unreasonably cold and ugly little moon. The words evoked the memory of the journey they'd taken together, between the stars and inside themselves. They meant more than Veetor could explain.

Kal considered it before he grunted and gruffly added, "Good a place as any."

That was a good enough summary for the both of them.

Shepard and Tali both came to see them off. The human simply nodded and said, "'Till next time." The statement, delivered with an almost knowing look, was more or less what both men supposed they could expect from her.

Tali, of course, was much more open with her emotions. She did her best to remain professional, but at the last moment she hugged them both, first seizing Veetor, and then Kal. To his credit, Veetor barely flinched, though both men were a little stunned, and they blinked as she whispered, "You are heroes to me. Both of you." Caught then between powerful emotion and embarrassment, she dithered until Kal broke the silence.

"Keelah se'lai, ma'am." Reegar said.

"Keelah se'lai, Tali," Veetor added.

Tali smiled. It was a moment before she could speak. "I'm… very happy for you, as well. That you found. Um. Well. You know." She gestured vaguely towards them. Behind her, Shepard was grinning like a crocodile at a Fat Baby Hippo Convention. Veetor beamed silently back at her.

"Yeah." Kal reached over to put his hand on Veetor's shoulder. Like Shasta Trinity, the gesture meant more to them now than just simple contact. It was a reminder of how far they'd come together, how much they'd been through, and what they shared. Veetor covered Kal's hand with his own, briefly squeezing it before they disengaged. Then they turned and stepped into the airlock, which hissed shut behind them. For a moment they stood there in the silence, and then the doors hissed open on the other side, where the crew of the _Yagangar _was waiting for them. The two quarians exchanged glances, and then they stepped over the threshold. It was good to be home.

Such as it was.


	15. Epilogue

Author's Note: DAYUM SON THIS WAS ALONG FANFICTION

I DID NOT THINK IT WOULD BE THIS LONG

SHEEEYIT well I had fun! Okay, time to get a wee bit sentimental over a silly fanfic. First and foremost, I want to thank Anonymous-I know who you are and you know who you are-for prompting this pairing, which put IDEAS into my head, which spawned this fanfic. I couldn't have done it without you!

And I also want to say thank you so much aggressors to everyone who reviewed. 51 reviews! You guys! You guys! I am flabbergasted and honored. Everyone has been so positive an encouraging and just plain awesome. I am genuinely proud that you all liked this fic so much. I tried. And you guys make me feel like I succeeded.

As to further writings, I do have an idea for another Mass Effect fan fiction, which will be loosely tied to this one, but will not concern all of these characters. Just some of them. It'll be a while before I start on it, though, because I need to do some final revisions of ST and also take a break from all this writin'. Anyway, here is the epilogue. I hope y'all enjoy it, even if I never changed that goofy summary. Thanks for reading!

/

Not too long ago-even though it seemed like ages now-she could remember when she had stood in the cold night air, staring at a stand of arrow-straight conifers and facing away from a group of angry quarians. She had chided them for not taking the opportunity to shoot her in the back. It seemed as if the quarians were the only ones who hadn't taken her advice. Things had gone downhill since the fall of Shasta Trinity.

One moment she had been falling into a merciful black pit of unconsciousness with a vague sense of victory. Her sight went first, but she could smell burning flesh, and visceral satisfaction gripped her. The damn krogan was dead. She was taken gratefully away from the world for a bit, and when she woke, the conditions were much more sterile, but just as chaotic.

She had been lying in a medical bed. She remembered snorting at the sharp smell of antiseptic and blinking under the glare of the lights. She stood, ripping out the tubes they'd attached to her-there hadn't been many-and stumbled across the floor. She felt faintly numb (probably the lingering effect of some kind of anesthetic) and around her the frenzied din seemed somehow distant, as if the noise and confusion were reaching her from far away.

She walked a few steps, and tried to speak, but her mouth was too slow and clumsy to properly wrap around any words. The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness again was the panicked face of a salarian. He was saying something. "Shepard," he'd said. "Normandy." They didn't mean anything to her then.

They meant something now. Her face was impassive as she stared out of the shuttle's window. Around her nebulous clouds of radiant purple swirled, specked here and there with the distant points of cold, far-off stars. The Serpent Nebula stretched around the shuttle, and at the heart of it, her destination waited in patient silence. The other passengers were chatting or watching their passage with the same quiet air that she did.

She had recovered just quickly enough to see everything she'd worked for finish falling apart. Shasta Trinity had been conquered, and roughly one-third of her entire workforce had been killed, scattered, or had simply vanished aboard that mysterious vessel that had arrived out of nowhere. The _Normandy_. They had their victory snatched out from underneath them before they'd been given a chance to savor it, but that wasn't the worst part.

In the days following, she learned just how complete her defeat was. She had built her entire career surrounding herself with people who were cold, impersonal, and loyal to the almighty credit. They had built an efficient business together, all of them. The _Normandy_'s attack on Shasta Trinity-signaled by the very quarian she'd personally sought out-had undermined her authority and destroyed her credibility. Surrounding herself with people more loyal to profit than to her had proved to be her undoing.

She was lucky that they hadn't killed her. Some upstart had seized command of what remained of her workforce. She didn't even know the details of the coup because she had been unconscious for most of the process. Apparently there had been many impassioned speeches given over hastily-organized boardroom meetings, a lot of speculation as to her fate, and an electronic frenzy of activity as the chain of command rattled into a new configuration.

She didn't know who had spared her life and motioned for the decision to dump her on Omega. They had drained her private accounts. She was alone, wounded, and penniless on the second most ruthless and dangerous locale in the galaxy. Still, they could have dropped her off on Tuchanka, but they hadn't, so she had _something_ to be grateful for. The abandonment wasn't the worst part of this whole affair, either.

The worst part was how her entire philosophy had been destroyed before her eyes. She had endeavored to succeed by creating an organization that was just that-organized. Above all else, she stressed cleanliness, efficiency, and a disdain for the petty infighting that lesser crime rings suffered from. She had failed, and she was certain that it was not through her practices. She had carefully chosen her officers, carefully designed their policies and their plans. There was no logical reason for them to have turned on her except to assume that, underneath their efficient, businesslike exterior, there lurked a secretly omnipresent ravenous opportunism.

To know that it was present in beings she had trusted for years was the worst part. She simply didn't understand people as well as she thought she did. If it weren't for one small detail, one small aberration of this trend, she might have stayed on Omega. Maybe she just would have given up a life of crime. Maybe she would have been content just to limit her reign of terror to a neighborhood on that station. She wasn't doing either of those things, though, because of one small, wholly baffling loose end.

The Citadel swung into view. She had been here once before, when she was very young. It was an impressive and heartening sight for travelers used to the rugged frontier of the Terminus systems. Behold the Citadel, gleaming diadem of the Serpent Nebula and heart of civilization! She knew better. It glittered with so many lights, but they only showed because of the shadows.

The one detail that brought her here was a man named Smith.

Every other last one of her men had turned on her and cast her off. Her second-in-command, the man who had the most to gain by turning her in-perhaps even freedom and power-had not. This confused her profoundly. The question had haunted her while she stalked the streets of Omega, slowly recovering from what was left of her wounds and fighting with vorcha for a comfortable corner to sleep. It had kept her awake when she should have been resting and recovering her strength.

It distracted her while she hopped from place to place, looking for work. What was his game? Was he holding out for something bigger? Did he _know _he had nothing to gain? The more she thought about it, the more suspicious she became, and when she had established herself as a bouncer at a low-end Omega club, she made a decision and saved up her spare money. Informants weren't hard to find on Omega.

She found out everything she could about the _Normandy _and Commander Shepard. The Commander had quite a reputation for being freelance a do-gooder, but the _Normandy_ was tagged as a Cerberus vessel. She'd heard of the organization, but had steered clear of it. She was mildly surprised when she unable to secure any information leaks as to what had happened on the _Normandy_. Cerberus was apparently more tight-knit than she thought. She did manage to discover, though, that they had taken Smith to the Citadel.

C-Sec was a lot easier to crack. She'd discovered everything concerning his incarceration over the period of a month or so through her hired informant. Every week or so a few more details trickled in. He had come in showing signs of hastily-treated trauma: broken bones and lacerated skin. He had not said a word to any of the officers since he'd arrived, though. Not a single word.

The phrase had repeated over and over in her head as she stared into the wildly dancing crowd, those nights on Omega. Neon lights flashed across her vision, and all she could think of was, _Not a single word. _The bold bass boom of the music roared through the air like a living thing, but she didn't hear it. _Not a single word. _Why was he doing this? It was maddening. She had to know.

For whatever reason of his own, Smith had given up everything to keep his silence, and she figured that finding out why would be worth the same from her. She saved up her salary for the next few weeks until she could hire a shuttle to the Citadel.

And here she was. The air was clean here, fresh-smelling and quite a departure from what she was used to. The Citadel had changed a lot since she'd been a young whelp here with her father, but that was to be expected after the geth attack. Her blank, cold features were displaying an amusing amount of stunned wonder at her brightly-lit surroundings as she waited in the customs line. Since when was this place so damned _bright?_

Getting through C-Sec security was easy. Most of her fare had been applied to a specific customs officer. Really, it was pathetic how easy it was to infiltrate this place. A little money shifted to the right places did wonders, even when one didn't have a terribly large amount to go around. When this was all over, maybe these cops would be more selective about who they took bribes from.

She hopped a public transport to the Wards, and when she stepped out onto the grimy pavement and took a deep breath of the musty air, her pale eyes narrowed in a smile. Her quest for an answer started here on the ground. She would have to work her way up from the very bottom until she was able to do what she came here to do. It might take months. It might take years, but she had nothing better to occupy herself in the interim.

This was a good place to rise again, though. For all its grace and splendor, the Citadel was a city, and every city had its fair share of stray cats. Feed a stray cat, and it would follow you anywhere. All she had was a few credits, a lot of determination, and a goal. For now, that would be enough.

She began walking. There was work to be done.

/

Kal'Reegar held both ends of the sturdy hose, one in either hand as he compared the ports at the end, eyes narrowed in intense concentration. "Okay, I think I got it," he eventually announced, "This one… attaches to the back of the helmet. Turn around."

Veetor did so obligingly. He felt the pressure of Kal's movement on the back of his helmet. Safeties were tripped and one of the thick cables was removed. Kal then tried to attach the end of the hose to the now-vacant port, paused, and said, "Dammit. I guess not."

Veetor waited until Kal had re-attached the original cable and looked over his shoulder. "Do you have the directions?"

Kal grunted something in reply and began to rummage through the small mess of cables and plastic shrink wrap they'd made on the floor between them. They were currently in Kal's quarters aboard the _Yagangar. _Since returning to their splinter group, they had gotten busy settling back down to their normal routine. Things were much the way they'd been before, with one small exception.

They were always careful to make time for one another. When they were together, they'd meet each other at some point during the day (often mealtimes), and when they were apart, they would send messages or hold video conferences before retiring for the evening. What started out as a small conscious effort soon became a habit, and then a treasured ritual.

Veetor in particular benefited from the structure they'd imposed on their relationship. Oftentimes Kal would simply sit there while Veetor talked, excitedly relaying the events of the day, yammering until he ran out of steam. Then he would recover and, as always, apologize for talking so much without letting Kal get a word in edgewise (and Kal would always tell him that it was not a problem). Then it would be Kal's turn.

It was more than the pleasure of hearing Veetor's voice every night that reassured Kal'Reegar. He would talk about his friends or coworkers, or some new discovery that had set all of the scientists into an enormous fuss that he couldn't quite grasp, or he would just talk about the new rations they received. The very presence of these stories was encouraging-he was slowly, but surely, creeping out of his self-imposed seclusion. Veetor would probably never be comfortable around crowds, and the damage done by the Collector assault was always there lurking under the surface, but he was happy now. Kal was grateful to be able to give him that, at least, and willing to do whatever it took to see him safely through whatever rough times lay ahead.

For his part, Kal'Reegar was mercifully under-worked. It seemed that the surprise assault by the Normandy and the fear of its return kept the majority of trouble at bay, but the marines were always ready to be deployed in case of a surprise raid or, worse, an attack by the geth. Even factoring in drills and routine security runs, this gave Kal considerably more free time than Veetor for the moment, and he had spent it doing a lot of thinking.

He knew that he had never cared for anyone quite like Veetor. Veetor was… _his_, and he belonged just as securely to the twitchy quarian. He was undoubtedly and irrevocably in it for the long run, and after this realization, Kal had rather bluntly asked Veetor if he wanted to link suits. It had been during one of their video conferences, and Veetor had jumped so much that he'd hit his desk. His holographic viewscreen had flickered offline momentarily, and the hazy, static-choked figured had blurted out, "Yes! Yes, I would!"

Kal'Reegar couldn't help but feel rather proud of such an enthusiastic response. Thus far in their relationship, Veetor had been the big mover and shaker. He had been the first to admit his attraction and the first to confess his eventual love. Kal had snagged the first kiss, but that didn't quite even the score. No matter. When they were acclimated to one another's bodies, Kal had plans to make up for it in spades.

He had sent for the suit-connection kit himself, and, once they'd racked up enough off-time, they decided to spend a week together aboard the _Yagangar_, which led them to their current situation.

Veetor turned over one of the smaller cables and began to examine his suit. He'd lived in it almost all of his life. The thought that there would be an aperture than he didn't know about, where apparently this _thing_ was supposed to go, was inconceivable, and yet he _still_ didn't have the faintest idea where to attach it.

"Okay," Kal sat back up, holding an unwrapped sheet of plastic that the directions were printed on. "They… what the-these aren't even in-can you read these?"

Kal'Reegar turned the plastic over and offered it to Veetor. Whatever dialect it was, it wasn't any that he was familiar with. "I don't think so."

Kal'Reegar shook his head. They'd been going at this for the better part of an hour, and so far hadn't had much luck. "Hell, at this rate we won't get finished before you have to go planetside." Kal pulled up his Omni-tool. He was no techie, but he could run a simple visual translation program. A small window popped up, and the text in the display was overlaid with the translation. He blinked widely. "This is-it's a _turian_ dialect!"

Kal'Reegar was seldom ever flustered for any reason, even in the face of certain death, and Veetor found the indignity in his raised voice too much to take. He lowered his helmet and tried to stifle his laughter, but Kal'Reegar had long since learned how to key in on Veetor's tiny gestures of amusement. The soldier glanced to him. "You're laughing."

"No," Veetor denied uselessly, his voice cracking with the strain of holding his mirth in.

Kal shook his head, but he was grinning under his helmet. Veetor could tell from his eyes. The memory of that uneven, somewhat cocky expression-likely a throwback from Kal's youth, which Veetor was beginning to learn more and more about from their nightly talks-filled Veetor with warmth. Maybe soon he'd see it again. Kal once again tried to make sense of the directions, but soon they found themselves in the same mess.

"Hell, this is incomprehensible," Kal muttered. "'Conjunction of right shot, applying pressure for power supply…'"

"It has a _power supply_?" Veetor asked doubtfully.

"I have no idea. It looks like these were translated into turian from something else. I don't… I don't even…" He shook his head.

Veetor leaned over and viewed the translated text through the small translation window. He scooted a little closer to read better, and Kal obligingly leaned to the side to give him a better view. Veetor grabbed Kal's wrist and gently guided it down so that he could scroll the window over the rest of the test, reading silently and rapidly. Finally, he said, "Okay, let me try."

Five minutes later they had all of the apparati connected. Veetor ran his hands over all the points of contact one last time, and finally he nodded "Well, damn," was all that Kal'Reegar could think to say. Veetor nodded towards the bed, and, grinning again, Kal walked with him over to it.

Veetor sat down opposite of him, smiling in quiet satisfaction under his helmet. Despite his accomplishments, Veetor was never smug. His humility left Kal feeling conflicted. He wanted Veetor to recognize his own worth, but at the same time, the marine treasured that side of him. There was a faint hiss as the suits bypassed the last locks between them. The air supply was synchronized, and their suits' onboard computers linked together to jointly monitor vitals.

Veetor breathed deep, closing his eyes. They sat for a moment, relaxing and basking in their victory. After a moment, Kal quietly asked Veetor what he was thinking. When he saw Veetor begin to fidget and squirm, he persisted. Kal'Reegar had noticed that Veetor always got embarrassed when he was thinking of something particularly romantic. "I just… I just thought it was nice. To breathe your air. And for you to, um, to breathe mine. We're sharing what makes us… what makes us _alive_, and it's nice. It's nice. "

A pause ensued. They knew that they were going to be spending most of their allotted off-days sick, but neither minded. They would adapt. That seemed to be most of what they'd done since they met one another. They had changed one another. Sometimes it was in tiny, innumerable ways, and sometimes the impact was drastic and noticeable. They knew they weren't done adapting, either, but both were ready to rise to the challenge. After what they'd been through to be with one another, they felt like any obstacle could be surmounted. A few days of sneezing and coughing was beyond worth it.

Kal leaned forward and gently touched the curve of his helmet against Veetor's. The marine closed his eyes first, followed by Veetor, and they sat close to one another, listening to the sound of their faintly amplified breaths. Then, softly, Kal finally replied, "Yeah." His own response was distinctly less elegant, but he was sincere if not eloquent.

Veetor knew that. Sometimes Veetor thought he understood Kal better than he understood himself. He chuckled at the irony of the thought, and before he could wonder if it was the same for Kal, he heard the other gruffly ask, "Laughin' at me again?"

Veetor did laugh, then. "No, I just…" He opened his eyes and sought Kal's hands. Considering the amount of tubing connecting them, there was considerable fumbling before he had both of them. He meshed their fingers together. "I'm just-I'm _happy_, Kal."

Kal had watched his efforts, and now raised his helmet again. It bumped gently against Veetor's. "Good. So'm I."

The comfortable silence stretched on for a while until Veetor finally broke it. "Well, something interesting happened on my way up here," he began hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Kal asked, and Veetor began to talk, slowly at first, and then more excitedly. It was a story about the mother they'd met on the shuttle before it crashed to Shasta Trinity. Veetor had seen her on his ride to the _Yagangar_. Apparently she was doing much better after being reunited with her son. Veetor was clearly heartened by the fact, and Kal was happy to listen to him share the story.

The two men stayed up late that night, speaking to one another and occasionally falling into companionable silence. They were adrift in space, cosmic outcasts from the land of their ancestors-a place they had never even seen-faced daily against nigh-insurmountable odds, overcome with challenges in every aspect of their lives, but they were with one another for the night, and that meant that Kal'Reegar and Veetor'Nara were home.

Just before bed, they disconnected. They had been sitting still for so long that both of Veetor's legs had fallen asleep, and Kal'Reegar was stomping the floor to rid himself of a toe-cramp. The marine chuckled roughly and said something about a backache.

When Veetor asked him what he meant, Kal just laughed again, fully, heartily, and said, "I'll explain later."


End file.
